she brushes against your leg
insisting, or should we say beg
to go out as the sun goes down
for another jaunt on th' town
her tail, her most precious asset
raised in the air to assert
that she is ready for what ever
she can discover
archy would say
mehitabel's just that way
tail in the air
she thinks - it's so debonaire
while we all know
that it's just for show
to attract attention
to parts we are to modest to mention
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem