Primal grunting sweaty lump
Driv'n by instinct, speaks in grunts
Runs like mindless clockwork toy
Look here comes, here comes..a boy!

Wishes hair where hair has none
Wants the clock full fast to run:
Time will come, my sprightly Jack
For hair, you'll wish the clock turned back.

Give him just a ball to kick
See him prance and do his tricks,
Don't let him have a bat and wicket
Dante's last circle was cricket!

And other drooling boys like baseball
Enough to make a sane girl's face fall!
Excuse if this sounds like a moan
Why *can't* they leave their balls alone?

Boys flock in coenobitic groups,
Are loud and shout with noisy whoops
But mostly - though it's not too smart
They like to stand around and.....lark.

(Larking's what they do quite well
Even though it makes a...hell
For those of us who are polite
And don't set.. the world.. alight.)

But I digress from this eu-logy
(Boys pick their nose and eat the bogie)
Yes boys must have some finer points
Though eating, you can hear them oink.

Boys are brave when comes the fight
They like to bash with all their might
Though with less urge to ruck and maul,
They might not need to fight at all.

What's a boy (cheesy and ripe!)
A boy was just God's prototype.
For the final, fair design
Why - you must look on womankind.


It's all a gross calumny of course, we're not like that at all...

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