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Droite en selle
A passé
Mad'moiselle
Aïssé!
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Petit coeur si joli!
Corps banal mais alacre!
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Un colis
Dans un fiacre.
Ah! les flancs
Tout brûlants
De fringales
Séminales,
Elle écoute
Par les routes
Si le cor
D'un Mondor
Ne s'exhale
Pas encor!
- Oh! raffale -
Moi le corps
Des salives
Corrosives
Dont mes flancs
Vont bêlant!
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- Ô vous Bon qui passez
Donnez-moi des nouvelles
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De ma Belle
Mad'moiselle
Aïssé.
Car ses épaules
Sont ma console,
Mon Acropole!
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Straight in the seat
She went her way
Along the street,
Miss Aïssé!
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Little heart so pretty,
Body banal but dab,
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Parcel in a city
Hackney cab.
Ah, thighs burning,
All yearning
With cravings all
Seminal,
Her ears acute
Along the route
If some Mondor
Might not once more
Give the horn vent.
- Oh, drain me out
Till body's spent,
And put to rout
The salivas, those
Corrosive flows
For which my thighs
Bleat out their sighs!
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- Good men who pass this way,
Give me all news to tell
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Of my swell
Mademoiselle
Aïssé.
For my console is
Her shoulders - this
My Acropolis!
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...buy this book