In conquering lust
I, honestly, must
To disgusting failure confess
When lasses possess
Not quite enough dress
To successfully cover the bust.

I cannot quite purge
The sexual urge,
Which emerges from me as a sigh,
When fashions deny
The feminine thigh
Its proprietary yardage of serge

What makes me succumb
Has no rule of thumb
That’s incumbent solely on sight;
For often the plight
Of slacks that are tight
Has incited a pinch on the bum.