Sinful Promenade

Sinful Promenade                  December 16, 2013

Crossing the bridge o'er the gulf's River Styx,

I tuned into jazz, grooved, and got me some kicks.

The Causeway stretch'd from Pontchartrain a-far,

To N'Awluns we drove, in our decadent sinful car.

Upon arrival, I look'd for a bit o' fun on Rue Bourbon,

A week o' debauchery, knowing we shan't recall,

Our eyes would be in pain as vampires in the sun;

Yet we would howl as wolves amid the moonlit ball!

 Le quartier français décadent dans les mœurs! 

Wild Cyprians et leurs beaux seins on parade!

'Tis Mardi Gras! We shall feast 'pon wet beaver!

Arousing sights, beads a-flying with ev'ry flash,

 And I ne'er have seen a fun sight any sweeter; 

'Tis our engross'd indulgence amid our masquerade

This delicious and fun: this Sinful Promenade!

Inebriated we are, we grabb'd hold of our tarts,
Intent 'pon pounding and eating their gash,

Vamoosed to our room with those horny, wet sots!
T'was the night that was young, the fun was lots!

Our big wooden totem poles peak'd so high,

And they ne'er bother'd to breathe even one sigh

Before they devour'd our blood-fill'd coqs 

Till our geysers shot their faces with our white rocks!

Their eyes were blind'd by our protein shakes, 

Loving deeply salty rewards o' a creamy daze! 

Those dames meant little to we drunken blokes; 

T'were Cyprians, that our tallywackers soak'd!

'Tis true I ne'er knew and do not care nor recall 

And after ev'ry midnight ride as if the silversmith Paul.

We'd loved our night with bull rides and rodeos,

But now the moon hath descent; 'tis now a new day.

Our wild debauchery is now amid the clock's decay:

But we still know not who rode us to this day!