Chucky Bee’s Bloody Nose
I met that girl tonight, the one in the songs,
That one that didn’t raise Chucky B’s loud brass gongs.
She moves like a panther, and sits like she sat,
And wears a bright headband instead of a hat.
Eyes ringed in black powder, that smile when she does,
Which is much of the time, reminiscing past loves.
She’ll punch out your heart looking through deep blue glass,
And drool you will too catching sight of her ass.
It’s big, and firm, and good, like a fine glass of wine,
And someday I’m hoping to claim it as mine.
Not that ass but the girl, you dirty old man,
Sitting with lewd mag perched up on the can.
There so much I could tell you, about that songbird,
But of course my loud praise would sound quite absurd.
Now if you met her, in doubt you’d not be,
Cause that girl, is the one, she’d make you to see.
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