This is the story of Sarah O'Down,
A girl much neglected in her sleepy home town,
Her shoulders were broad, her feet they were large,
And her bum brought to mind an old canal barge.
But she pined for a boyfriend or at least the odd fuck,
And she begged her contemporaries, What brings you your luck?
And they giggled a bit, those primpers and pickers,
And said, If you must know, it's hundred quid knickers.
So Sarah logged on to Coco de Mere,
She would have gone personally but she didn't have a car,
And she selected silk panties with a tiny lace trim,
The website assured her they'd delight any him.
And they came with the postman this Saturday morn,
All flimsy in tissue like fantasy porn,
And she slid right inside them, they fit like a glove,
And she thought, With these undies I'll surely find love.
So she rang up some men friends, said, Steady your tickers,
But if you want a good time I'm wearing hundred quid knickers,
And they yelled to a man, We'll be there on the dot,
For hundred pound underpants guarantee you are hot.
And when she balanced her cheque book she said, Well, I'm broke,
But hundred pound undies have secured me a bloke,
And she dated each weekend for many a year,
Her undies ensuring men would always be near.
Plus she worked out a trick that saved her on cash,
While greatly increasing her lingerie stash,
For she fixes fake price tags in the hours that are dark,
Those hundred quid undies cost two pound from Primark.
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