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Honor and Duty
Honor and Duty
Her elf face could be Irish
If not for her cappuccino hue
That tells of a palace girl
Who serves the Rajah
As his Rajasthani servant
She wears clingy-brown-cotton pants
With a matching madras shirt on top
To be the Hindu embodiment of love
Maidservant become princess
Of the Milky Way
She bears a golden platter
Of her master’s favorite cuisine
When she leans down
She invites his sense of touch
To grab a handful of her derriere
Because her stoic face makes not a flinch
She wins the game of touchy-feely
For it is an honor to serve the king
As she carefully lays his plate
Not once bemoaning her fate
Her elf face could be Irish
If not for her cappuccino hue
That tells of a palace girl
Who serves the Rajah
As his Rajasthani servant
She wears clingy-brown-cotton pants
With a matching madras shirt on top
To be the Hindu embodiment of love
Maidservant become princess
Of the Milky Way
She bears a golden platter
Of her master’s favorite cuisine
When she leans down
She invites his sense of touch
To grab a handful of her derriere
Because her stoic face makes not a flinch
She wins the game of touchy-feely
For it is an honor to serve the king
As she carefully lays his plate
Not once bemoaning her fate
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