According to Debs the caretaker gal
The gangster man's gone, not his missus or
Young son, so while the son's been on his hol
She's been havin' it off big style galore
Mainly at night, the bedsprings almost tore
Through my wall, any night you care to name
But now the son's due back so I feel sure
Those fine and dandy randy nights, that flame
Of hers, his thund'rous plundering of that dame
Must be approaching its climactic tale
One last time, least til Christmas or Easter
Best to end things before passion goes lame
Anyway, all's for the best, gal and pal
Here comes the autumn, let shriek turn to snore
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