Torvell
In the darkness of the Greenwood
Stalks a beastkin shining bright
The luscious bouncing Torwell
Men swell at every sight
The guiling furry beauty
Slips lithely through the night
With a pair of juicy melons
That are waiting for a bite
The sly and slinky maiden
With wit and craft to spare
Her eyes and smile neglected
With such a bounteous pair
The wood is full of music
And teaming full of life
No longer thanks to critters
As Torwell's fans are rife
Mesmerised by her beauty
Her assets there for all
Soft hills you want to play on
Men fighting for her to pull
A place to hold your drink in
A valley to hide the lost
So many thoughts presented
By the buxom beauty's toss'd
No better a morning start
Than to wake with her aside
Breakfast two lovely baps
With your sausage firm inside!
Then moving onto dinner
The quivering jelly mounds
Attracting men's attention
As they flock like hungry hounds
The shelf that's full of wonder
The heaving sun-touched rack
Does inspire our full attention
As we picture her in the sack
The firmly built buttresses
An awe-inspiring sight
Those most assailable turrets
Over which all men will fight
As the morning ripples down
Upon the thunderous fields
Of her mighty tracks of land
All resistance quickly yields
And I am left to wonder
As I heave those spilling jugs
Are all men so possessed
And are we really mugs?
All Works are © Original Author
(OC Author - Paul Martin)