Argyles I hose-hoist up high. . .
See not my varicose vein.
And they're mounting to my thigh,
Till they nearly touch my twain.

Ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-osiery's
Cinch-'em belt stays way low.
Ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-ose is free.
It held up my rayon hose.

Drops the belt where hem would be
If I did like cross dressing.
I hold hose above the knee
With the hose that, sockless, swings.

Ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-ose on me
Is well flexed to stay hose.
Ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-ose on me
Is well flexed to stay the hose.

Sometimes pair I wear is plaid;
These days, my coworkers haze
Me until I get so mad,
I change into solid baize.

Ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-ose on me
Thinks sex, swells, strains to grow.
Ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-o, ho-o-o-o-ose on me
Inflects, wrecks baize pair I chose.