When life doth air too serious
So weary I become
My notions turn nefarious
To whimsy, I succumb
I then proceed to longeth p’ruse
My Frederick’s catalogue
To sate my need for silken rouge
And frilly lace corsage
Of course they must be crotchless
Lest I err a thoughtless cad
And should I dare wend topless
Throw some pasties in the bag
With preference for tassels
‘Tis a hassle otherwise
I might start feeling sassy
Thus, such foresight would suffice
Ne’er I display such imprudence
Hence, I buy in bulk
For countless corsets have i torn
asunder with mine hulk
As proven on the eve
I wast locked out of mine own house
And all the poor old maidens
Swooned as if they’d seen a mouse!
Did grant, I may stand
Two inches just over six feet tall
With brawny build and buns that filleth
Panties with a sprawl
Which tend to draw the ire
Of the gentry’s night patrol
Who seem to never tire
Of cruising past me ever slow
Why then, would anyone
Blame a lad for simply trying
Were I to say I did not look
Hawt in lace I’d be lying!
And thou knowest quite well
This spectacle sings flourishing
Within the theater of thy mind
Where it is now showing
For none dare intermit
The thought of such a rogue delight
Frolicking in flowery peignoirs
All throughout the night
[image credit: Louis Wain]
