Orchids, orchids. . .
Painted a slew
Did Ms. O'Keefe. Schlong
Seeks orchids--different kind.

Painted orchids, orchids,
I get a view,
And what I see clear:
A poon primed for the pine.

Now, that's art! At least to me,
Ogle-eyed with lechery.
Midst those leaves, there's seams I see
That seeds are sown into.

I ask, "Georgia, O', Georgia,
Was in your mind
An oiled seam for schlong?
These orchids seem that kind.

It's that part, it seems to me
But some highbrows temper me:
"Midst those leaves, the seams you see. . .
Mere rosy streaks of hue."

Georgia's orchids--
Now when a piece I've mined--
I see I seen wrong;
They're just the floral kind.

But still, when I seed my schlong--
'Keefe's orchids on my mind.