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About This Poem
The Women's Bathhouse
A shriek rings out
the women's bathhouse invaded
A flustered man is past the door, intruded
Naked women milling about
All without a clout
The girls hide with hands their pudenda
Especially those built like Brunhilda
But fair Rosamund, no bother
just her face does cover
Next day he might know them as they were
but never never the naked her!
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