Cher Punkoid, best of all Santees I pray you pity take on me With heaving breast and passioned glance I beg you, come and join this dance, My smile, my hair, my flirting eyes Are all now offered in this wise -- To see you end this silent ruse And offer to thy Santa, clues. How can you, made of manly stuff Resist my all-beguiling fluff? I'll bat my lashes, curve my hips And let a sweet smile cross my lips If only once, you'll give more shrift To Her Who Yearns to Give you Gifts! Enough, this silence, wan and pale; An answer! Or, I'll kick your tail! EPNSSA
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