You like to read the hot stuff,
and that is perfectly clear.
If you didn't like it hot,
you wouldn't be looking round here.
There're plenty of tender sonnets,
to bring a tear to your eye,
but you'd rather read the hot stuff,
until it makes you sigh and cry.
You like to hear me call you "Sweet Man"
Tickle your "Fancy" and your ear.
Wrap you up in scandalous words,
while I hold you ever so near.
You need to catch a glimpse of,
long shapely feminine legs.
and round melon fruit sweetness
until your trembling body begs
You peep through the poetry window,
at the bare lady charms I show,
and for all those things,
I promise to do to you,
you're more than ready to go.
You like to read those words,
They always give you a rise,
and that you like this hot stuff,
Baby is no surprise.
A little quality time with me,
never fails to make your day.
You're never in a hurry to leave,
I know how to make you stay.
Just a little of this hot stuff,
and you'll never be the same.
Before the poem's over,
I'll have you moaning my name.
You wanna picture it all,
on a hot and heavy night,
the touch of my lips and tongue,
while I hold your attention just right.
So go ahead and deny it.
Claim you don't like it hot as fire.
We all know you dobecause
Baby, you're such a liar.
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