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