Beneath a pile of Autumn leaves
The Spamshee wails and bucks and heaves
Her mottled face of pink and white
Will give the passing children fright
She wipes her boogers on her sleeves…
She’s Cindy Crawford, she believes,
But men who pass her are relieved
That Spamshee’s chained up good and tight
Beneath a pile of Autumn leaves
Oh Spamshee smells like feta cheese
Her odor wafting on the breeze
The pinkish goo seeps from her slight
Underwear of black and white
She wants you bad, and she’s no tease,
Beneath a pile of Autumn leaves
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