The Phantom Y-Front Pincher ©
Written in response to a comment on the poem, “The Phantom Knicker Knocker” by Thomas Matthew Edgar.
Dalton in Furness, England
Lest all you ladies, should feel suppressed,
By tales of Knicker-knockin, (Though meant in jest!)
Here follows a tale from days of yore,
Which more than levels up the score!
Although her name was never known,
Her infamy grew, throughout our town.
Many men were left, with chilly bots,
When she’d been round, pinchin our best Grots.
The thing which raised her notoriety,
Was her preference for the poorly washed variety.
No childish prank this, to be blamed on the kids.
As she relished the ones with the marks from the skids.
Y-fronts and Long Johns
Boxers or briefs,
Her prowess had crowned her,
The Queen of Tea-Leafs.
She cared not a jot,
For the local men’s lot,
Not just with our minds was she messing.
It may sound quite sleazy,
But for the girls it was easy,
At a glance, to see which way we’re dressing.
Our fashion sense suffered,
As we bought cheaper jeans.
No more tight-fit, we all wanted slack.
For all of us boys,
Commando’s a choice,
While some like some support round their sack.
But while women would raise such a rumpus,
At the theft of their undies, so dear.
The menfolk weren’t manic,
Why the hell should they panic?
Coz they only get washed once a year!
Although to be perfectly honest,
This never caused much strife,
Substantiated rumour states..
It was the Vicar’s wife.