Her choices were leather or lace
And the choice would dictate what took place
The fabric, pure white
Lewd thoughts could incite
Her reputation disgrace
While cheering her side on the field
For talent, she kept her eyes peeled
That boy in the stands
They might just shake hands
Or he may, perhaps, make her squeel
There was a young lass name of Bonnie Bendover
Who, covered in cream, would erupt from pavlova
Her cream, sweet and tasty
Got licked from her waist-y
The next time Jett skips me, it will be all ova'
(You completely jumped my post! So much for the kind, courteous, Aussie gents!)