T’s for tantamount to Teton tits,
C’s for coronas that give me fits,
U’s for über udders that don’t even lactate,
P’s for pair that soars to the ceiling up from the floor.

Over them eyes are sure to pore
in disbelief at so much more.

T cups are not for a leafy brew,
T cups are meant to hold on to two,
T cups are for tender orbs upon the female gender
and a lovely sight to view.

T’s for “ta-tas,” that’s one name that’s used,
C’s for certainly, I am enthused,
U’s for up and not down, where we hope they’ll spiral,
P’s for propped up; that is what those massive cups are for. . .
so like stalactits [sis] to explore.

T cups hold what is know, as “bazooms,”
resembling mighty big balloons.
I’d love to be between them be entombed.
Sometimes think I’m seeing double.

T cups suspended from the chest;
In Spanglish they say “chest guapo”;
In espançais, it’s “belle dos.”
T cups sure to clear a room.
because there’s no space, so shoo!
and take with you all the crew.

For gawkers a buxom boon
as they look on those lulus.
A cycle that’s called bust-boom.
Such girls make men howl at moon.

Or pen a titular tune.