Papa, might we hear witch Beyoncé's “Full-Grown Woman” song?
It's late, the phone booths are broke & common-core math is wrong
While Liz queen's high on Miller life that's the Jack Daniel's of gin,
her rotting, Goyish kop's stuffed with ***** sea's canned tuna in tin
& afflicts the bumps of 2 knees, the rear of 1 calf plus a lateral shin
what hobbles acquaintances, hangers-on, unchallenged kith and kin
who romp with Parisienne pikes in defiance of hourly Earthen spin,
slaving for grubs, shaving with mud, pricking boiled *** with a pin
God punishes the demerits of evil, in pop parlance it's known as sin
among dipsomaniacs who find solace in games sober folk can't win
with Richard Burton's *****-hard hurtin' the keenest fish part's a fin
as long as chokes & wheezes World War 2 jingoist crone Vera Lynn
who fitfully forked it over faithlessly to *****-banging Errol Flynn