She struts clam'rous ovations from a sumptuously clappin' derrière.
With every stride her bounteous bosom bounces, straining her brassiere.
The cocks crow and hens cry foul, windows tremble as the Skyline bows.
Waves of heat flood her wake, horned devils aflame to strip the blouse.
They burn double: from God's decree and her flesh's heavenly abundance.
Their pricks sing as spirits burn, such agony never gleans a glance
from those bright eyes and brighter smile as the deafening parade passes.
Women decry, hissing "She's too much!", and Men athirst taste bitter ashes.
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