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deepundergroundpoetry.com

Mable: A Coy Dutchess

Two buns and some meat
A burger or some anal
Two drums of some skeet
The synagogue or the cradle
I have chosen the crib
The results could be fatal
This baby needs a bib
Some cream cheese for its bagel
It wants to reason with me
It’s age makes it unable
I’d ignore it if it could
Some would call me unstable  
We sit at opposite ends
Of the mahogany table
I think “slip the tip in”
I want my hog in ye, Mable
But before I throatpie the infant
I gift my sack with a staple
My cock oozes sweet syrup  
I’m not talkin’ bout maple
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