Milk the Prostate of Human Kindness
‘Tis a vector for what’s good and fair
For I must state that what’s behind us
Is the nectar of our derrière

I press my digit against the flower
That’s in my tail, my honeysuckle
At first I fidget and then full power
Right past the nail and to the knuckle

Quite on a lark with deep affection
I sally forth, I can’t resist
She now is marked for my inspection
With a stripe due north of lips I’ve kissed

What are the chances my little birdie
Less sweetly sings as a soiled dove
And can a Sanchez be so dirty
If it’s a thing that’s done with love?