Naked, dangling there, twisting and turning,
Despite all the cash she was earning,
She thought “How much more?
God! I might be a whore,
But it’s time I became more discerning!”
Tag: prostitution
Job satisfaction
“I love fucking!” she said, with a smirk.
“Kinda job a gal don’t wanna shirk!
Gettin’ paid just to root,
And free whisky to boot!
Shit, it ain’t what I’d really call work!”
The company he keeps
Said Her Majesty, “This is just awful!
One ought to just make it unlawful,
Let men be disgraced,
For such damned sinful waste
Of good money and seed, by the whoreful!
Hello sailor
“”Hello sailor!” The tart called. “Ahoy!”
He walked over, surprisingly coy.
“You got such a nice bum,”
He said. “Lovely for some.
What a pity you ain’t a nice boy!”
Propriety
The come-ons of the pretty young whores,
In their snippets of satin and gauze,
Splendid tits, a nice arse,
As he hurries to pass,
Mr. Charles James Esq. ignores.
The photographer’s model
A photographer’s model, her fees
(“Spread your legs, darlin’. Wider. Say cheese!”)
Depend largely on what
You want done, clothed or not,
If the rent’s due, and if you say please.
The madam
Just fifteen when she went on the game,
Now she owned her own house of ill fame.
She still screwed the odd john,
Just to be, like, hands-on;
Plus se change, the more ever the same!
The balance of trade
Once seduced and abandoned, betrayed,
She soon turned to the world’s oldest trade.
She did rather well, though,
Dressed up nice… Even so,
It was all a pathetic charade!
The silver lining
Men are bastards, she’d learned, to her cost.
Having been seduced, then double-crossed.
Then she found out men paid,
Though, to get themselves laid,
Pretty well, too, so all was not lost.
Rigor mortis
The young whore peered into the coffin.
“Poor Shamus! He visited often.
A terrible shock!
Such a lovely big cock,
Which, I see, death’s done little to soften!”