Wednesday, 21 October 2015

My heart has fallen for wambui,
The girl with real hair on her eyebrows.
When she smiles she arrests my loins,
Her breasts have the curves of pawpaws.

Forget about Catherine,
The one with rings on her navel.
I'd rather make use of my Vaseline,
Than put my thing in her bowel.

My tongue sweats for Wambui,
The girl with a passion for farming.
Even if her buttocks are tiny,
Her face when she smiles is shiny.

Forget about Michelle,
Whose skirt reveals her underwear.
She even has stretch marks on her legs,
And has bleached herself everywhere.

My throat throttles for wambui,
Who cooks her meals with a passion.
And she doesn't rely on chips,
To fatten the size of her hips.

Forget about Florence,
Who speaks with a borrowed accent.
She calls herself a diva,
While she sells her legs for silver.

My arm pits drool for Wambui,
She's the type of woman I'll keep.
We can roast maize and eat and sleep,
Our love is true and deep.

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