My Old Bag - Dark Humour

I lay my dearest Susan down to rest Of tall tales and humour she was the best An excuse each night Wouldn't hold me tight There's something I need to get off my chest See, Susan was a talented old hag Three men at once she quite often would shag The gents often told Of her lips of gold and the tricks hidden deep inside her bag I put up with her, turned the other cheek She was built of strength, I a man so weak Shame filtered these eyes She laughed at my cries Til they found her in the bag by the creek *no bags were hurt in the making of this poem*