Bra filch: The thief slinks into the bedroom;
her foundation garments are doomed,
taken from drawer where they’re entombed.
With clasps they’ve clung together.

The best time to take them’s during day
when the owner has gone away.
It’s best he not prolong the stay.
He is only a thief, not a thug…
bolsters courage with a slug
of Bourbon drunk from a mug.
He’s of the fetish ilk…bra filch.

If he gets caught he’ll get put away
and don a suit that’s flannel-gray.
In the graybar hotel he’ll stay.
Though he’s only a thief, not a thug…
fascination with the jug-
holder to him’s like a drug.
Now with penitent ilk. Bras? Zilch!