There's been talk of rubber mallets, or suspenders on the thigh,
We considered fishing waders and Nebraskan apple pie,
And we mentioned skintight rubber, but bizarrely never yet
Did we speak of the erotics of the common green courgette.
You can dress it up in finery, seduce it with your charm,
And escort it out to fancy dinners hanging on your arm,
Seduce it with your perfume, and then sweep it off its stalk
To reduce it to a quivering beauty trembling on your fork.
I covered you with relish; let it quiver on my lips
As I sought among the shrubbery between your shapely hips,
Blindfolded you with lettuce leaves and tied you up with twine
As I, complete with cucumber, prepared to make you mine.
In wanton rude abandonment you let me kiss the slit,
Your perfect thighs around me while I titillate your clit,
Meanwhile the courgette sat nearby, content to watch us go,
As he lit a Dunhill cigarette and read some brief Rousseau.
At length he rose, and set to work, to spank your matchless arse,
And punctuate his teasing smacks to lick you as he passed,
You embraced the throbbing vegetable, and took it to its root,
And since I found you irresistible I had to follow suit.
