Oh wet bicycle seat.
How dry you seem to be.
Yet, so moist upon my cheek.
Oh, wet bicycle seat,
For those eyes who seek
To see my bottom,
They may think;
My, poor child, doth thee aware?
For it seem, to the naked eye,
That my bottom doth spurt air.
Oh wet bicycle seat.
Doth dampen me there,
And make thee appear,
To have soiled mine underwear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem