To the tune of Danny Boy ...

Oh, Pantyboy, the pants, the pants are resting,
From on the shelf to round their bodies all,
And when they call, you surely must retrieve them,
For the best of worlds, revealed when panties fall.

And whether they, be cotton or of nylon,
And whether they, belong to short or tall,
No matter how ... they rest against her lovely parts,
To them, to them, our Pantyboy is called.



I had to get in the spirit of things.