The flirt

She was known around town as a flirt,
Strutting round in her little short skirt.
She went drinking in bars,
And she never wore bras;
You could see her tits, right through her shirt!

All the mums in the town were alert,
Watching out for young Tom, Dick or Bert,
Who would all cop a  wallop
If caught with this trollop,
With nipples so pointy and pert!

When they spoke to her, women were curt,
(In suspenders and step-ins well-girt),
She was called slut and whore,
And a loose bitch and more:
She was even called “that piece of dirt!”

At the pub, though, the men-folk would blurt,
“I could fuck that sweet bitch till it hurt!”
They did nothing, of course,
For the fear of divorce
And disgrace kept their organs inert.

But young boys’ sleeping organs would spurt,
Like whipped cream on a jelly dessert,
And they’d wake in their beds,
With that girl in their heads,
As their cocks gave one last lonely squirt.