![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3l5tmWfLto1J4ZvYE9ICfwtehtY0Zzls4ySBf_F_6gPYU4CC8Ulq32QBaCaOCLgg9c6vUJdu2P1EqhGTj0LF3UC6yZhyQyqeOSe24qGqHmsI7PIOoNHEvxEC54RL5YIFPE5nBSuEC6kk/s400/sleep.jpg)
My Porterstown queen
Had a face so serene
She could launch a flotilla of ships.
She had curves where she should
(Which were awfully good)
And a pair of fine child-bearing hips.
I looked into her eyes
Open wide with surprise
As she lay on the silk-sheeted bed.
But I knew, her and me,
It was never to be,
For sadly, Elvira was dead.
Had a face so serene
She could launch a flotilla of ships.
She had curves where she should
(Which were awfully good)
And a pair of fine child-bearing hips.
I looked into her eyes
Open wide with surprise
As she lay on the silk-sheeted bed.
But I knew, her and me,
It was never to be,
For sadly, Elvira was dead.
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