Sweet Ladies of the Soup
All the ladies of Poetry Soup
Have me wrapped around their fingers
Pulling me along by my big proboscis
As their lady smells doth linger
That scent that drives us male dudes wild
You guys know of what I speak
Not stuff you can buy in a beauty salon
That oh so feminine mystique
It's really damn difficult to turn it off
The reason we act like buffoons
We succumb and act so silly and stuff
Often we even bay at the moon
Like a bunch of silly young teenage dudes
We stammer when trying to speak
Our faces turn red, we bump into things
Sometimes letting out little shrieks
There is a cure, it's called commitment
How dare I suggest such a thing
There's just got to be a much simpler way
Perhaps a one-night ring-a-ding-ding
All the ladies of Poetry Soup
Have me wrapped around their fingers
Pulling me along by my big proboscis
As their lady smells doth linger
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