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Lady's Choice

by MortalWombat

Many men give me limp corsages
And stale perfumes from France;
Other young swains bring cheap champagnes
Or five-and-dime underpants.
But my one true love is the raunchy fella
Who sidles in with a leather umbrella
While doing a belly-dance.

Some ardent suitors on motor-scooters
Invite me to sit on their fenders;
They warble in woe to let me know
How their affection tenders.
But my heart belongs to the sporting lad
With the olive-oil and the wrestling pad
And the trick with the wet suspenders.

Some men suppose the single red rose
And the elegant songs they sing us
Will generate sighs and open our thighs
And prep us to fly 'Aer Lingus'.

Traditional boys with careful poise
Can talk all night about carnal joys,
But give me the guy with the gleam in his eye
Who shows up with whips and cream-cheese dips
And a glow-in-the-dark fake dingus!


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