Gotes

GOTES She sashayed across the dance floor, A shimmering Lycra curve. Through the throbbing beat explosions, She yelled a few delicate words. “Have you got Gotes?” she said, “You what?” said I, “Have you got Gotes?” “Have I got Gotes?” “Yes,” she said, “Have you got Gotes?” “I don’t know, whats Gotes?” “They’re like sheep wi’ horns,” says she, “Oh, no I haven’t,” I replied, “Hmmm,” she said, “pity!” and with that she danced away, disappointed.