I have no time for Mr Newman
those washed up washeruppers,
give me the troubling tough Tarzan
trembling me with the screams he utters,
swinging from curtains, this brute ape-man,
come to make me his woman...

Modesty forbids me to be kissed and tell
when in the arms of my cave-man lover,
or how, even, he would be like a devil from hell
as he burns me beyond being a blusher,
and the neighbors would know from my yells
that master was home quelling his rebel...

And later when we both are satiated
and sunrise begins to dry the dew,
my Tarzan would know that he'd really mated
for I'd leave him, of course, black and blue,
my marks would show his boasts not inflated
his Rewd Jane really is, X rated...