Another version, less compressed - http://bothellite.cgsociety.org/gallery/1063840/

They stole the Aphrodisiac, its old and crusted jar
and hid it at the tar hole on the far side of Zhazar.
Until they found a willing boy who didn't know his way
they'd keep it in the dank and dark to use another day.

Black Boolgertz learned of their exploits
and gathered goons with skills adroit,
mounted steeds and ships afloat,
to race the sands, that's all she wrote.

That word, they heard, the reading, wrote,
they raced themselves back to the moat
of gooey tar and dark and dank;
half the prized Aphrodisiac - they drank.

They drank too much, the naughty brew,
they had a tremendous urge (woo-woo),
searched wildly up - down - aplomb
and found this hapless sot named Tom.

They sat him down stuck to the tar
and commenced to finish off the jar
each taking turns to sit on him
and love him up right to the brim.

They loved him, shoved him, loved some more
whilst he was sinking into the floor,
they didn't note till was too late
that they had sealed poor Tommy's fate.

Black Boolgertz arrived with motley crew,
Aphrodisiac gone, empty jar, no brew,
all that was left of the lurid scene
was where Tommy sank, it left a sheen.

The nymphs who drank to their desire
stared at Boolgerz in his weird attire,
yes, descended on him and his motley crew
and you guessed it, ensconced, commenced woo-woo.

Tre-men-dous--ensued, all sank, just goo,
the joy of the jar, all gone, it's true,
so what would the future hold for we?
"See Alice", four hours, find a nymph, you'll see.