Dream Girl

My baby has bi-lateral bonbons. She modulates her rhythm side to side. She’s a twenty-mule team moving violation, Her motives pure as borax, her methods bona fide. She stood naked in a shell at her creation, Now she promenades down Broad Street like a queen. She claims her corner armed with guided mistletoe And decorates her hair in wintergreen. She’s wearing pearls and sexy Christmas stockings. She’s stunning as the lights on Boathouse Row. 'Twould be a thrill to occupy her manger, And nestle ‘neath her starlight’s afterglow. But her champagne's lost its fizz, And all her virus leaves me is Much alpha delta omicron about nothing.