Rumor has it that Doris Day has the greatest *** in Hollywood—
What it looks like now I haven’t heard,
But it can’t look all that bad to be compared to Venus in its day—
Marilyn Monroe had a great *** too,
But she got fat and lived too long—
Doris day is still alive by the way—
No one on earth has a greater *** than Doris Day,
Old and wrinkled like Brigitte Bardot
Who tried to ****** me on the Riviera—
There once was a girl named Cinderella
Who had an *** like an ironing board—
She didn’t stand out in a crowd—
Doris Day, now there was an ***
Glimpsed like a blue moon in Technicolor pictures
From before you were born—
But no one ever seduced Doris Day; she never got laid—
“I knew Doris day before she was ******,”
Goes the Biblical story, but there it is—
Playing in a stag film New York City,
Filmed in the village in the apartment of TS Eliot
Featuring a ******* with Dylan Thomas and William S. Burroughs
Doing strange things to her on the couch—
Her pillbox hat never fell off her beehive, her black petticoats
Like the sails of a pirate schooner blowing in a nor’easter
She bent over and ****** **** in high heels,
Like your mother used to wear if you were lucky,
In my dreams Sylvia Plath would be there too—
I wrote a play once—
What Doris Day had was deep cleavage,
A great profile and a ******* tight as an oyster—
She had great feet that didn’t smell,
Unless she wore flats all day then they smelled like roses—
She was always willing to have her *** slapped and
Her cheeks were tight as drums—
There’s an old woman librarian,
She must be about seventy,
I can see her everyday if I make an excuse to go to the library—
I’d take that ***** between the shelves and write her life story from birth to the grave—
I would eat her dusty ***** and make it wet as an ocean—
She wears stockings and garters older than my mother—
If she let her hair down she’d be blonde as Doris Day—