MY finger-nails grow on my fingers, and

               My fingers are fixed firmly to my hand.

               It is my hand that terminates my arm,

               And that sticks to my shoulder like a charm.

               My shoulder is a portion of my trunk.

               I hope no prostitute, however drunk,

               Would end the shocking sequence.  Yet we find,

               Even in England, men of evil mind,

               Pornographers who love obscene details,

               Shameless enough to mention finger-nails.