Who's the one who'll love you
In D.C, and hop above you?
Ball then pay.
His bankroll will cheer you
When he pulls his wad out, near you:
Call-girl pay.

Call 'er and then ball 'er weekly,
What a shmuck and shlemiel.
Don't creep around, do it meekly.
Chutzpah, hubris. . .Achilles' Heel.

Now body [politic] don't need you;
Your "Be Good" no more they'll heed, too
Galled: "Go 'way!"
Realized, your worst fears:
Your name's smeared on print, net. . .appears
All the ways.

Now go, you have blown it. She too
Did same to tool, for pay.
Mistress will no more love you
Missus might change mind and shove you
Out one day,
Then you'll pay.