Made In Manhattan

I know she can be glib,
And spin an awesome fib,
That dusky maid in New York from the South,
But tell me Mr Kahn
Your own convincing yarn
Of how your semen got into her mouth.

This is a tale so sad,
Youíre no Sir Galahad,
The great seducer? Thatís a bleeding joke.
A thirty year age gap,
She falls into your lap,
And offers you a blow job and a poke?

The charges have been dropped,
Now Miss Dialloís shopped,
She has no street cred, so says the DA,
But did some Gallic ghost
Buy off the New York Post
To spread rumour and slime the ladyís way?

You may think, Dominique,
Itís over, but the beek
Is not the only bloke you have to sort;
You may have held your tongue,
But justice will be done,
When you take the stand in the civil court!

August 29, 2011

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