She was young and she was slim
Not much meat packed in her sleek skin
But the whisperings of a surge
Of life’s procreative urge
Were looming high on her horizon now.
Oh, pity this poor lovelorn lass
Whom life’s sweet pleasure’s sure to pass.
She has no curves in any place
To bring a glint to suitors face.
She feels that life will leave her flat somehow.
But wait, her eye perchanced to fall
Upon an advert, square and small:-
“Let silicon your life renew –
You’ll find men waiting in a queue”
All eager for to plight their troth I trow.
With lips a-trembling, heart a-quiver
She waits for surgeon to deliver.
Oh, will she find that when she wakes up
She’s gone to Double-D from A-Cup?
Hope swelling high on her horizon now.