Bars shinin' bright, I trumped you;
Spike squeezes, teases, whispers, "I'll hump you."
Bird singin', that was pigeon-whore me.
Schemed a little scheme did we.

Spike likes to bite, says, "Kiss me!"
He holds you tight; you're a "belle," his "missy."
Beneath his bone, they're blue as can be,
Streamin' liberal streams wants he.

I've craven, so fingered you; now leers
Spike, cravin' your kiss.
He's longin' to fringer li'l con rear. . .
Gust-maker bliss.

Guilty the jury'd find you;
Gimpy Spike's pike ain't, workin' behind you.
Judge deemed you'd see in the bargained plea
Three to twenty. Freedom, me!