Blew a tire this morning. Blew a tire. Blue a tire. Blue a tire. Blue attire. Blew attire. Blue attire this morning. Blue dockers, blue suede shoes, navy socks, marine mariner's cap, jaunty pipe, eyes cocked at a passing lass, blue tattoo: of anchor. Bought my dockers at the Docks; blew my pipe at seagull flocks; bought my socks at cents apiece; paid for blow from fatman's niece. Snorted blow, set out to sea; windward laylard laid a lee; swung to starboard, snossed the snocks; rebowed the toil through nowling lochs.
Celebrated nautically; blew my boy and he blows me.
Let the lemon course my chest, the stream to lick; to fondle, zest,
Pectorals at their brazen best, and sprit waysporting south-south-west.
While shaving, blade glints in my eye,
Through mirrored doorway, I tears bespy.