Sonnet #65
I'm a gloves and collar fancyman flesh tout,
I love to book my sweet three shilling harlot-
I'll tweak an idling punter by the snout
Toward unbuttoned pantaloons and slot.
I'll shout a bloke a closing time gin shot
And bring him back to a red Queen st hut-
My missus doesn't care for looks a jot
So his crown I'll cosh if he calls her a slut.
While he grunts, while his eyes are squinted shut
His claypipe I might plug and loudly puff,
I try his shirt if he's same size round the gut,
If he's muscled I'll stroke her pale grey muff.
At the chainstitch treadle she works up a sweat
By day but moonlights an unlaced corset.
{3D interactive chorus:}
At the chainstitich treadle she works up a sweat.
At the chainstitch treadle she works up a hidrosis.
At the chainstitch treadle she works up a perspiration.