♥
His powerful forearms were painted with red,
And his great cleaver danced with precision,
Leered the dear girl from the foot of her bed,
Transfixed by exquisite incisions.
♥
Her beating heart quickened whenever a chicken,
He carved up and cleft into sections.
Besmitten, her breathy heaves thickened,
So stricken was she, with these carnal affections.
♥
Each night she would spy, by the light of the moon,
On the good butcher, Myron MacKenzie.
Wowed by a cow’s disemboweling one June,
Went both hands down her pants in a frenzy.
♥
As she watched him smear blood ‘cross his apron of white,
On her pillow she nibbled and quivered.
When he ground Polish sausage, she climaxed outright,
And then had a kielbasa delivered.
♥
Buttercup's House 