Tuesday, 18 December 2007

Beckoning

Walking down Long Street
His heart would beat
For the ladies plied their trade
And enchanted with their charade

With clear voices they would call
Promising virtues, vices and all
Cradling forward their tits
And really jiggling their other bits

He tried not to stare
Or look like he belonged there
As he opened his book to preach
For his calling was to teach.

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