Gentlemen,

It's so cliché to call your wench a bitch,
And rude, when she grows you the kind of wood
That makes a real man convinced he's rich
Whenever he is in her "neighborhood",
And it's treasury of sweet sensation,
Ever devoted to the common wealth
Of happy anatomical conflation
Known to foster our testicular health.
Keep that in mind when you want a chick
Or when you are down on your romantic luck
And find no home for your unhappy dick
Because you've been such a heartless schmuck,
For ladies have so much that they must do
Beyond concern for your balls turning blue!.