Molly iz codly 2 my pantzfront...4 now

All de day long Charley scrubbz tha flo'z, fillz up the wooden tonzil-scrapah's wit-what you stir yo' coffee, even risin' up thru de ranks at Stahbukkszibbit to show a lady he can true keep he bond or promiz. Charley got mad clean shirtzz on, clean apron every day, soft shoes to be N a good moodz all 8 hours he be on. I be cold from tha 1920s all so crisp and chazte.

But the lady she do not notiz. She keep wit' her man. He iz stone dopely, cold on the pantzfront and hella gibberin' when asked "basically a question." Is illz of a man ask fo' a "plain cuppa joe I guess black and no fuss please" you know.

At nyyte I dreamz of tha lady, cuppin she azz, st8re in2 her breazst, hell of have dranxx by a lake at midnight. We'z get 50773N on sum bouza from Raybo an lay on tha blanket. She check my w3rked up linezz and my poemzz, whereby we much grot tha booty on. I got twelve pages of nothin' but tha rhyyme.