I’ve got a shape that wiggles and waddles
Same oldies, same old, Mabel and Mable;
Hot and captivating in the bible of apples
Read meaningfully on a beautiful flat table.
I’ve got a shape that fetches the babbles
And tonnes of senseless tweets that twaddle
On lips connected by cables and gables
Longing to chew my delicate apples.
I’ve got the tip of the diddle, don’t gamble
With or without my hand in an open fiddle
For I know, that away you shall piddle
Soon after deflowering my fruitful apple.
I’ve got a shape of an apple gathering a huddle
But that doesn’t demean I should flirt and mingle
Neither does it define; I mustn’t be single in a jungle,
This apple is but an hourglass at my own middle.
Boys will always stare towards the saddle
I often tremble but hope they get the riddle,
That this apple is an hourglass at my middle
Not on theirs or theirs to manhandle.