Look at Her

If she could give you nothing but

A wink, a wave, a flounce,

A sashay showing off her legs,

She would not stint an ounce,

For she desires, requires, aspires

To flirt with you anon

In hopes that with these wiles of hers

It’s she on whom you’ll fawn,

Because she has a crazy crush

That cow-eyes cannot cure

And wants no more in life or death

Than be your cynosure.