[Haber]dashing dude no mo’—
covets one-piece ’colleté,
gorgeous couture haute
and a bit outré.

Swell is that cocktail thing,
slinky, sequined, slight.
What fun it is to writhe and swing—
dance away the long night
(and say, that thong is tight!).

Clothes. . .

Jim goes belle, Jim goes belle,
Jim goes drag, not gay.
Oh what fun it is to slide
off that boring suit: “Away-ay!”

Jim goes belle, Jim goes belle,
Jim goes drag, not gay.
Oh what fun it is to glide
across the floor and sashay.

Dude raiment’s a no-no
if dame fashion’s your guide.
Jim slides his fanny right
into skirt of cowhide.
His torso—lean and lank?
The truth be told: it’s not.
He split the seams; to join drag’s ranks,
a muumuu must be wrought.

So. . .

Jim goes belle, Jim goes belle
in a Kate Smith way.
Oh so plump, flesh rolls at sides. . .
too-many-courses buffet-et.

Jim’s no svelte, Jim’s no svelte. . .
in a weight blimp way.
Porcine-plump, flesh rolls at sides.
No mams. . .gorge-forged man nay-nays.