My intention was not chivalrous,
It was entirely amorous,
So by letting you pass,
My intention was to look at your ***
And so…
You gave me a show.

And what an *** – it was.
As I let you pass – it does.
Some things to me.
I slap my knee
And I say: Oh Boy!
Such a joy!

And now that I reflect,
I realize it was the object,
Of something near perfect,
When I pulled away I nearly wrecked,
All because I was rubbernecked.

Even your thighs,
Gave me highs,
They gave me sighs.

So what is chivalry?
It’s men letting you pass,
Only to look at your ***,
And you don’t sass,
Because chivalry
Is not rivalry.

And what an *** – it was.
As I let you pass – it does.
Some things to me.
I slap my knee
And I say: Oh Boy!
Such a joy!

We hold the door,
At the store,
You’re the decor.
We stare at your ***,
And we let you pass.

You jog across the street,
My eyes aren’t discrete,
They just watch your ***,
As you jog pass,
Your round ****,
Perfect and plump.

Tightly wound in those gray pants
But I stare and I don’t just glance,
Your *** is what I desire,
Your *** is what I admire,
Your *** is what I’m chivalrous – for,
Your *** is what I’m amorous – for.