SUNDAY’S ERECTION

I will submit only to hot hands
Has it the warm drawl I crave
And dreamy voices smooth
And to which regard am I held
How low do her eyes make me
When she works those wonders
And I’m left to bellow in awe
I had to assemble my manhood
And burst all through her jaw
She pampered the puckered pouch
I hadn’t a choice
Her eyes held me still
I seemed lost for words
In what curse had I fallen
What witch could play such charms
That I would lurk in the meadows
To feel the grip of her hands
I made for a pull
But she tugged it away
Hid it deep in her neck
My soul being slurped away