Pleatheretta,
Loves but spills her scotch.
With her patent leather,
Knee high boots...
She's an eye popper.
Wearing her pleathered bra.
And at the bar she sits...
Stirring her drink,
With a preferred lemon twist.
To turn to ask...
If I would give her a lift home.
And of course I obliged!
Since her eyes spotted the stiff,
I bore and could not hide.
And she rode me as I drove...
To equal moans and sighs!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem