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She seems to me a street car named desire
The way mens lust travel torward her commute
Not even weeks of rain can put out fire
That grows, enchanted by her tempting root

Unconscious of her charm does she seduce
Sober mens minds, and those saucy and numb
Herself, a victim of mental abuse
Yet of her sex-appeal do men succumb

For as with wine, so is her pleasure bought
Though she proclaims herself a "Southern belle"
And as with men, no pride has ever brought
Her tender care to heal her mind that's frail

To you, my dear, no matter how unchaste
Know of thyself, and let not thyself waste

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