Iver Hardy
The poor fellow
Iver Hardy wasn’t shy, He was a fun and open guy. Men that met him they would quiver, As he always made the ladies shiver.
He walked around proud as a punch, Knowing all could see his lunch. But poor old Iver had an issue, His only love was a tissue.
Even though he kept on urging, Iver Hardy was still a virgin. Every time he got close to action, Premature ejaculation.
The hours, days and years did pass, He never got to roll in the grass. On his grave stone it did read, Iver failed to sow his seed.
©MartinRushton 2020
