Freedom of Breech(es)
There isn’t quite anything
Like a nice hamstring,
And any old galoot
Knows the value of glutes,
But rather than showing my huge quadriceps,
I now have to follow society’s precepts.
When I wish to show off both of my legs
Some dimwit comes over rudely begs
That instead of leaving my viewership to chance
I ought to be decent and put on some pants.
“Good sir,” I replied, “Truly nothings demeans
My legs like wearing a pair of jeans!”
He said, “Maybe, but anyways you’ll have to stop
Before I call my good friend who’s a cop.”
“What?!” I said, “Haven’t you got any brains?
Or don’t you appreciate the sight of some Hanes?”
But since my good friend wouldn’t listen to reason
He thought he should try to send me to preeson.
The cop said, “Sir, have you lost track of your hosiery?
You seem to be doing indecent exposuring!”
I said, “As a cop you must be acquainted with sirens –
I’ll be the Siren and you’ll be admirin’.
I flexed what I could of my pantsless bod,
Switching from left to right vascular quad,
But the policeman called it bologna,
So now I must always wear my pantalones.