I have a girl bouncing on my chest,
She's shapely and attractive,
She's every male's fantasy,
But I'm non-reactive.
For she's a mindless sort of gal,
The simplest she can't understand,
Because she's Barbie and made of plastic,
Controlled by my daughter's hand.
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Excuse me if I'm in front, Or behind on a poem each day, Sometimes the real world intrudes, And that's all I have to say.
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