The Pearl, A Magazine of Facetiae and Voluptuous Reading was a monthly magazine issued for 18 months in 1879-1880 with two Christmas supplements. It contained erotic tales, rhymes, songs and parodies and was published in London between July 1879 to December 1880, when they were forced to shut down by the authorities for publishing rude and obscene literature.
The publisher was William Lazenby, who also wrote some of the contents. He followed it with The Oyster and The Boudoir (1883). Some of the poems are thought to have been written by Algernon Charles Swinburne.
Go to Vol. 2 Vol. 3 Vol. 4 Vol. 5 Vol. 6 Vol. 7 Vol. 16
The Pearl, Vol. 1
There was a young man of Bombay,
Who fashioned a cunt out of clay;
But the heat of his prick
Turned it into a brick,
And chafed all his foreskin away.
There was a young man of Peru,
Who had nothing whatever to do;
So he took out his carrot
And buggered his parrot,
And sent the result to the Zoo.
There was a young girl of Ostend,
Who her maidenhead tried to defend,
But a Chasseur d’Afrique
Inserted his prick,
And taught that ex-maid how to spend.
There was a young man of Calcutta,
Who tried to write “Cunt” on a shutter.
When he got to C-U,
A pious Hindoo
Knocked him arse over head in the gutter.
There was a young man of Ostend,
Whose wife caught him fucking her friend;
“It’s no use, my duck,
Interrupting our fuck,
For I’m damned if I draw till I spend.”
There was a young man of Wood Green,
Who tried to fart “God Save the Queen.”
When he reached the soprano,
He shot his guano,
And his breeches weren’t fit to be seen.
There was a young man of Dundee,
Who one night went out on the spree;
He wound up his clock
With the tip of his cock,
And buggered himself with the key.
There was a young lady of Troy,
Who invented a new kind of joy:
She sugared her thing
Both outside and in,
And then had it sucked by a boy.
There was a young man of Santander,
Who tried hard to bugger a gander;
But the virtuous bird
Plugged his arse with a turd,
And refused to such low tastes to pander.
There was a young lady of Hitchin,
Who was skrotching her cunt in the kitchen;
Her father said “Rose,
It’s the crabs, I suppose.”
“You’re right, pa, the buggers are itching.”
There was an old person of Sark,
Who buggered a pig in the dark;
The swine, in surprise,
Murmured “God blast your eyes,
Do you take me for Boulton or Park?”
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The Pearl, Vol. 2
There was a young lady of Gaza,
Who shaved her cunt dean with a razor;
The crabs in a lump
Made tracks to her rump,
Which proceeding did greatly amaze her.
There was a young lass of Surat,
The cheeks of whose arse were so fat
That they had to be parted,
Whenever she farted,
And also whenever she shat.
There was an old priest of Siberia,
Who of fucking grew wearier and wearier;
So one night after prayers,
He bolted upstairs,
And buggered the Lady Superior.
There was an old man of Natal,
Who was lazily fucking a gal,
Says she, “You’re a sluggard,”
Said he, “You be buggered,
I like to fuck slowly, and shall.”
There was a young farmer of Nant;
Whose conduct was gay and gallant,
For he fucked all his dozens
Of nieces and cousins,
In addition, of course, to bis aunt.
There was an old man of Tantivy,
Who followed his son to the privy,
He lifted the lid,
To see what he did,
And found that it smelt of Capivi.
There was a young man of this Nation,
Who didn’t much like fornication;
When asked, “Do you fuck?”
He said, “No, I suck
Women’s quims, and I use Masturbation.”
There was a young parson of Eltham,
Who seldom fucked whores, but oft felt ‘em.
In the lanes he would linger,
And play at stick finger,
‘Twas on the way home that he smelt ‘em.
There was a young lady of Rheims,
Who was terribly plagued with wet dreams;
She saved up a dozen,
And sent to her cousin,
Who ate them and thought they were creams.
There was a gay parson of Tooting,
Whose roe he was frequently shooting;
Till he married a lass,
With a face like my arse,
And a cunt you could put a top-boot in.
A learned divine down at Buckingham,
Wrote a treatise on cunts and on fucking ‘em;
A learned Parsee,
Taught him Gamahuchee,
So he added a chapter on sucking ‘em.
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The Pearl, Vol. 3
There was a young lady of Harrow.
Who complained that her Cunt was too narrow,
For times without number
he would use a cucumber,
But could not accomplish a marrow.
There was a young lady of Glasgow,
And fondly her lover did ask, “Oh,
Pray allow me a fuck,”
But she said, “No, my duck,
But you may, if you please, up my arse go.”
There was a young man had the art
Of making a capital tart,
With a handful of shit,
Some snot and a spit,
And he’d flavor the whole with a fart.
There was an old man of Connaught.
Whose prick was remarkably short,
When he got into bed
The old woman said,
“This isn’t a prick, it’s a wart.”
There was a gay Countess of Bray,
And you may think it odd when I say,
That in spite of high station,
Rank and education,
She always spelt Cunt with a K.
There was an old parson of Lundy,
Fell asleep in his vestry on Sunday;
He awoke with a scream,
“What, another wet dream,
This comes of not frigging since Monday.”
There was a strong man of Drumrig,
Who one day did seven times frig;
He buggered three Sailors,
Four Jews and two Tailors,
And ended by fucking a pig.
There was an Old Man of the Mountain.
Who frigged himself into a fountain,
Fifteen times had he spent.
Still he wasn’t content.
He simply got tired of the counting.
There was a young man of Nantucket.
Who went down a well in a bucket;
The last words he spoke.
Before the rope broke,
Were, “Arsehole, you bugger, and suck it.”
A native of Havre de Grace
Once tired of Cunt, said “I’ll try arse.”
He unfolded his plan
To another young man,
Who said, “Most decidedly, my arse!”
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The Pearl, Vol. 4
A parson who lived near Cremorne
Looked down on all women with scorn;
E’en a boy’s white fat bum;
Could not make him come;
But an old man’s piles gave him the horn.
A cheerful old party of Lucknow,
Remarked, “I should like a fuck now!”
So he had one and spent,
And said, “I’m content!
By no means am I so cunt-struck now.”
There was a young man of Peru,
Who lived upon clap juice and spew;
When these palled to his taste,
He tried some turd paste,
And said that was very good too.
There is a new Baron of Wokingham;
The girls say he don’t care for poking ‘em.
Preferring “Minette,”
What is pleasant, but yet,
There is one disadvantage, his choking ‘em.
There was an Archbishop of Rheims,
Who played with himself in his dreams;
On his nightshirt in front,
He painted a cunt,
Which made his spend gush forth in streams.
There was a young man of Newminster Court.
Bugger’d a pig, but his prick was too short;
Said the hog, “It’s not nice;
But pray take my advice;
Make tracks, or by the police you’ll be caught.”
There was a young man of Cashmere.
Who purchased a fine Bayadere!
He fucked all her toes.
Her mouth, eyes, and her nose,
And eventually poxed her left ear.
There was a young party of Bicester,
Who wanted to bugger his sister;
But not liking dirt.
He bought him a squirt,
And cleaned out her arse with a clyster.
There was a young man of King’s Cross,
Who amused himself frigging a horse.
Then licking the spend
Which still dripped from the end,
Said, “It tastes just like anchovy sauce.”
A president called Gambetta.
Once used an imperfect French Letter;
This was not the worst,
With disease he got cursed.
And he took a long time to get better.
There was a young girl from Vistula,
To whom a friend said, “Jef has kissed you, la!”
Said she, “Yes, by God!
But my arse he can’t sod,
Because I am troubled with Fistula.”
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The Pearl, Vol. 5
There was a young man of Berlin.
Whome disease had despoiled of his skin;
But he said with much pride.
“Though deprived of my hide,
I can still enjoy a put in.”
There was a young woman of Cheadle,
Who once gave the clap to a beadle.
Said she, “Does it itch?”
“It does, you damned bitch,
And burns like hell-fire when I peedle.”
There was an old Chinaman drunk,
Who went for a sail in his junk,
He was dreaming of Venus,
And tickling his penis,
Till he floated away in the spunk.
There was a young man of Rangoon,
Who farted and filled a balloon.
The balloon went so high,
That it stuck in the sky,
And stank out the Man in the Moon.
There was a young man at the Cape,
On a maiden committed a rape.
Said she, “You damned shit,
You can’t fuck a bit,
And you’re knocking my quim out of shape.”
There was a young parson of Harwich,
Tried to grind his betrothed in a carriage.
She said “No, you young goose
Just try self-abuse,
And the other we’ll try after marriage.”
There was a young man of St. Paul’s,
Possessed the most useless of balls.
Till at last, at the Strand,
He managed a stand,
And tossed himself off in the stalls.
There was a young lady of Treadle,
Who sat down in Church on a needle.
The needle, not blunt. Penetrated her cunt,
But was promptly removed by the beadle.
There was a young girl of Newcastle,
Whose charms were declared universal.
While one man in front
Went into her cunt,
Another was engaged at her arsehole.
There was a young parson of Goring.
Who made a small hole in the flooring;
He lined it all round,
Then laid on the ground,
And declared it was cheaper than whoring.
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The Pearl, Vol. 6
There was a young man of Calcutta
Who thought he would do a smart trick;
So anointed his arsehole with butter.
And in it inserted his prick.
It was not for greed after gold;
It was not for thirst after pelf;
‘Twas simply because he’d been told
To bloody well bugger himself.
There was a young lass of Dalkeith,
Who frigged a young man with her teeth;
She complained that he stunk;
Not so much from the spunk;
But his arsehole was just underneath.
There was a gay parson of Norton,
Whose prick, although thick, was a short ‘un;
To make up for this loss,
He had balls like a horse.
And never spent less than a quartern.
There was a young man of the Tweed.
Who sucked his wife’s arse thro’ a reed;
When she had diarrhoea.
He’d let none come near.
For fear they should poach on his feed.
A cabman who drove in Biarritz,
Once frightened a fare into fits;
When reprov’d for a fart,
He said, “God bless my heart
When I break wind I usually shits.”
A young woman got married at Chester.
Her mother she kissed and she blessed her.
Says she, “You’re in luck,
He’s a stunning good fuck.
For I’ve had himself myself down in Leicester.
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The Pearl, Vol. 7
ODE
By the Rev. Mr. Bray, on the Death of his favourite Donkey.
How well do I remember yet
How very proud I used to get
When, like a little king, I’d sit,
Upon my Ass!
When seated in his nice warm back
My tiny, little whip I’d crack,
And with my youthful hand I’d smack
My Ass!
And when we galloped o’er the lea
I shouted with delight and glee,
For all the girls came out to see
My Ass!
With him my frugal meals I’d share
And nurture him with greatest care,
And dally with the long, soft hair
Upon my Ass!
In meadows green he’d love to play
And, when tired out, at close of day,
You then, of sweet delicious hay,
Could smell my Ass!
And when through dirty lanes we’d scud
And get bespattered o’er with mud,
I’d get some water when I could.
And wash my Ass!
But someone served him such a trick-
At first they hit him with a stick,
And then with heavy boots did kick
My Ass!
One day he got beyond my reach,
Into a pond, I gave a screech,
For a blood-thirsty, hungry leech
Did suck my Ass!
And oh! his fate I do bewail,
He backed one day against a rail,
And a long, pointed, rusty nail
Stuck in my Ass!
Alas his end I soon did see;
A woodman cutting down a tree,
Did slip, and, barely missing me,
Did axe my Ass!
I saw him die, I watched the gore
Run from the wound as home they bore
My dearest friend – my wounded, sore,
And bloody Ass!
My grief for him was most sincere,
The pain was more than I could bear,
So now, kind friend, come shed a tear
Upon my Ass!
Perhaps this epitaph is odd-
“A better donkey never trod,
Here lies beneath this friendly sod,
My Ass!”
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The Pearl, Vol. 16
There was a young bride of Antigua,
Whose husband had said: “Dear me, how big you are!”
Said the girl: “What damn’d rot,
Why, you’ve often felt my twot,
My legs and my arse and my figua!”
There once was a young man of Bulgaria,
Who once went to piss down an area,
Said Mary to cook:
“Oh, do come and look,
Did you ever see anything hairier?”
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