When you’re changing, I spy—it please me;
I never let me down, for sure.
I imagine that your mammalian
Organs are in my embouchure.
I love to see ’em—those D’s are double. . .
I’m like a seaman on a spar
Who trains his spyglass not on whale but lass.
I love your jugs from way afar.

I am eyeing my true passion:
A lovely and globular pair.
I’m just hoping that you will not ration
The view you give my ogled stare.

I don’t want cleft invagination,
’cause that ain’t what will raise the bar.
I just want lungs, two, that I can gawk-view;
I love your jugs from way afar.

I need to know that I will always see
Those dame globes, a busty purview.
I thrill: you take off that sheer lingerie—
Each day it’s such a purty view.

Each day I love to watch untethered
Titties hung just outside the heart.
They’re so supple and not yet weathered;
I lust for jugs from way afar.