Dissolute

Mister Pidcock, a dissolute type, 
Sipped his pint, puffed his old briar pipe,
Watched the girls in the square…
“Like to have that one there,”
He thought… “Pretty, plump chested and ripe!”

Opportunist

“Fuckin perv! Whatcha lookin at dude?
Wanna fuck? Well I ain’t in the mood!
Get an eyeful?” she said.
“Go and fuckin drop dead!”
But by then she’d already been screwed.