From the shadows I see her there/How can I do aught but stare?/At a beauty twould freeze anyone:/Short or long until I'm done?
From the shadows I see him there,/As if he has the right to stare!/Rigid as a statued one-/Stare, boy, you'll soon be done.
What a cheek, what a nerve,/I'll make him pay for every curve./Make him the object, make him prey,/Make him curse his luck this day.
My body changing, front to rear-/What is this, am I a deer?/But worst of all, a change of scent!/My dogs no longer look ‘me decent.
Never thought that I'd get caught,/Nowhere is this thing taught./Wandering eyes bring a risk/Of relations somewhat brisk.
Never do they think I'll see,/But always, for all eternity,/I'll have chewed to a bloody mess/Any man who sees my naked flesh.
So run now, boy, give us the chase,/Run now, boy, redden your face./Try to escape, try your new run/And let me now have my fun.
I run now, for fear of death,/Run now, ever losing faith./For the gap, it thins and narrows,/And no one can outchase arrows.
Oh, curse these hunt-dogs, curse my luck/Why couldn't I just have ducked?/Such a cheek, such a nerve/Now forever known as, "Perve."
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