Sweet Little Gal

Sold my car. Need to buy a truck
like a redneck woman in need of a
flat-iron skillet and a mess of greens
who's wanting a fella in worn-out jeans
where some skin peeks through and
the seams don't hold
'cause she's hot as hades
and so dad-blamed bold that her blouse unbuttons
at the wink of an eye
or his gandering and gawking
at her soft, soft thigh
and he'd like to touch but his Ma's next door
and she warned him about this "woman", this
hootin-and hollerin' no-good tramp.
Still his mouth is watering and his hands are damp
and he wants to touch and he wants much more.
She whispers, "Come around, Honey, to my back door
and I'll let you see what your mom don't know --
I'm just a sweet little gal from Ida-ho.”