My stalk sticks up from below my bellybutton/ I

   am a stalker, a corn stalker/ call me the kernel, my

      talking is major/ I'm General Mills/ if they knew of

 

my shenanigans, they'd give me corporal punishment/ they

  don't know because I keep it private, even if I have to

      buck up/ I'm stuck up as I fuck up, as I stalk her playing

 

        the field/ she calls the police on me, but Sgt Faulker is

     also a stalker & a non-stop talker/ he talks about the one

  he stalks/ they put him on a wire, the wire of desire because he

 

    can't stop stalking, but he sees another beauty & starts balking as

      he switches the object of his stalking & is in another corn field/ he

         approaches her from behind, ever so kind, but she says he's

 

            not her type/ his stalk wilts to the hilt in a forest of

                hair, all because she doesn't care, & now he's

                    old & tired/ as a stalker, he's retired!

 

            He puts his PECKER in a BOX &

                                 leaves it for the FOX &

                           goes TO SLEEP .  .  .

 

                           !

 

Fritz Hamilton