Ask for a poem that satirizes the small three and the small four, and limerick is the best.

Love songs of Pan Langgui, a village woman in Gaoliang.

Watching Mandy day and night, the fruit on the tall tree is ripe.

Some people climb trees to pick them, and my husband goes out and falls into the mud.

Looking forward to Mandy's return day and night, the paddy fields are ripe.

I have a husband to cut it for me, and my husband goes out to do it himself.

Looking forward to Mandy's return day and night, he cut the grain and went to plow the field.

People have husbands to drive cattle, and my family only has a hoe.

Watching Mandy day and night, crowing at three o'clock in the evening.

People come and go in pairs. Who should I talk to?

Find a husband in a hundred miles to the skylight, and then to Xuwen and Haikang.

Walking through the flower street and Liuxiang, who knows that my husband is in the bitch's bed.

Twenty-eight women dressed very skillfully, and the bridal chamber changed grooms every night.

A pair of jade arm pillows for thousands of people and a little lip for thousands of people to taste.

Pretend to be charming, pretend to be false.

Welcome to know how much, I used to cry two lines.

I hated it before my death and advised Lang to quit prostitution and go home.

I feel that Yangzhou dream should wake up, and I have infinite affection for my wife.