Sashes down town like she owns the place,
Regal from head to foot,
As she flaunts by the men in her vogue.
Sashes into church Sunday morning,
And good sweet god fearing ladies
Sour at the sight for her.
Long legged, pendulous hips
Passing by the sit on the pew
Were pastor can have a view
Of the long slit, of her long skirt, showing long legs
A flirt while he sermons and sweats,
Panting on the pulpit for Sista Fey.
Sits in the late afternoon on her veranda
Entertaining Gentlemen callers by the dozen
Not too quietly when one is chosen to retire with her
For an not quite siesta
And a coconut water in her boudoir,
For after excitement refreshments.
Sashes like she owns the place
Because she do what she do
Head wrapped and regal
Proud of her appealing ways.