Imagine seeing Sue, I do,
I think about that garment white, hidden from sight.
I’m thinking of that girl’s clamp duds ensconced there tight.
Oh patented leather
if she had, I’d look up the next time I’m
standing there, looking longingly; those shoes would shine.
that bright reflection would be oh so very fine,
in patented leather.

I could see her undies, a heavenly view,
feast for the eyes.
If those skivvies were by chance baby blue hue,
I’d rhapsodize!

Seeing Sue’s reflectively
would be worth almost any price; I’d blissfully
attempt to train my view to hone so gimletly
on patented leather.

I could see her muslin, a heavenly view,
feast for the eyes.
If those skivvies were by chance slightly askew,
I’d rhapsodize!!

Seeing Sue’s reflectively
would be worth almost any price; genuflecty
you would find me beside the pew, a convertee
to Catholic pleasure.

Seeing Sue’s reflectively
turned out not to be worth the price; ’cause naughtily,
the nuns professed, the boys could see skimpy skivvies
on patented leather.

“No patented leather!
No patented leather!!
Where you are feathered,
though fabric-tethered,
boy’s eye’s will measure
what they would treasure
on patented leather!”
No patented leather!
To paters I’m tethered.
The padres take measures
by patting my nethers.