Lay Grouter - Nine Outmost Stretched

The Vixen (a woman of remarkable looks)

Remarked to the looks of our Grouter

That her house was a house of respectable folk

Not a house for a thrusting young shouter

‘A shouter moreover,’ the Vixen averred

‘For whose lusts we must charge as deranged

Would put us to counting (for we charge by the hour)

And we possess not the coins to make change.’

Her patrons, said Vixen, were elderly gents

Who paid well to engage in invasion

Of those in her house in voluminous slips

Rarely so coarse as to rise to the occasion

They would fumble and thimble at bows and at stays

Until by corsets and girdles defeated

See their hour run dry as they fought at such layers

Until exhausted, their ardour depleted

Then happily home with a spring in their step

To mansion and palace they’d wend

Content that indeed they were manly men

Whilst no guilt there upon them attend

‘Why,’ swore the Vixen with hand on her heart

‘In all the years I have serve their predation

‘Not a one that has paid to sample our wares

‘Has ever suffered to regret penetration’

Princes and bishops, bankers and lords

Crossed nations to sample her whores

Yet not a one on completion, and on the way home

Could be accused of reaching their drawers

The den of the Vixen was a reputable house

That serviced by menu aberration

And not a one of those fine men that came through the door

Ever feared for their lofty reputation

Grouter he stamped, and he wailed, and swore

To this meal with knife and with fork

He had come with a plate far bigger than most

Towards which he would go off like a cork

‘Is it too much,’ our Grouter would know

That he might with his butter find toast?

It wouldn’t take long, but a minute or two

Even undressing then three at the most

‘A woman, a woman,’ Grouter demanded

Fat, thin, curly, alive, dead; I’m not picky

As long as she’s willing (and prepared most of all)

Having been once upright, then shortly then sticky’

‘A woman?’ said Vixen, her heart sadly touched

By his plight, for she too was a mother

‘If a woman you want or such as resembles

You had best skip along to another’

For in the dark rooms where her gentlemen came

To dig at the layers and the smother

All they would find if ever they won

Would be girdled and tied - one another

‘Who you need is the Princess,’ the Vixen suggested

‘But be warned if you wish to inflame

Her passions for prickling at your sordid needs

Lie in celebrity, fiction and fame’

The Princess? thought Grouter, smoothing his hair

Indeed why not aim for the best?

For breeding, for riches, for long golden hair

And with luck quite a lot in the chest