My mother recited your postman poem to me as a child growing up in the 70’s, but it went a little differently.

Policeman, policeman
Do your duty,
Here comes Charlotte
As a bathing beauty

She can do the rumba
She can do the splits
She can lift her skirts
As high as her hips.

Here’s another she’d often recite

Charlotte was a dancer,
She danced for the king;
And every time she danced,
She wiggled everything.

Stop! Cried the king,
You can’t do that in here!
Phooey, said Charlotte,
And she kicked him in the rear.