He sashayed to the corner, he sashayed into the drag bar.
He checked out the want ads, he wanted a purple clown car.
He wanted one with big hooters, with lots of junk in the trunk.
Splattered with dripping white gunk that looked like old spunk.
His name was Sweet Susie Sweetcheeks, from Gobblers Knob.
She drew scads of catcalls, her first day on the job.
She loved dancing for perverts, Loved twerking for scum.
She danced and she danced for anyone who would come.
Her fake gigantic bazoombas were double H forty-fours.
Her butt was so big it was hard to get it through the door.
She drew ginormous crowds tromping around on the bar.
Her dressed up in pink leotards, should leave permanent scars.
Besides dancing in drag bars, she loved pride month parades.
Twerking to young children to the parents disturbing accolades.
She'd been taught she was special and her gender was changed.
She was brainwashed by perverts, her whole Id rearranged.
Last time I heard She'd retired, too much stress on her heart.
The catcalls had turned to derision, she was a fat ugly tart.
She's in a home for old drag queens, with nothing to show.
But a few disturbing memories and an addiction to blow.
D.L. Crockett -- 2/10/23