I have an interesting problem that I cannot seem to solve
and the hours I’ve spent pondering have made my head revolve.
You see, I’m faced with a dilemma that has used up all my wits
as I rack my brain to try to choose my favorite of your tits.

It began as such a simple thing, an idle daydream shocker.
If faced with death, which would I choose? Which is my perfect knocker?
So I mentally considered all the boobie pros and cons
and I recalled to mind each inch of your bodacious grand tetons.

Just the looks are not enough, you know, there’s tan lines, size and heft.
Which one’s rounder, firmer, bouncier, your right one or your left?
Is one of them northwest-by-west? Is either pointing south?
Is one more suited to my hand? Is one best for my mouth?

I think you might have quickly guessed
I tend to get a touch obsessed
when I’m remembering your chest,
wrapped in lace or all undressed.
If you could help me with my quest
my gratitude would manifest
since my poor mind gets over-stressed
and I become a man possessed
when I try to select a breast
that far surpasses all the rest.
Oh, you have been so richly blessed
even Dolly would be impressed.

I weighed them gently in my mind, a grocer judging fruit.
Which of your gorgeous mounds will win? Which hooter makes me hoot?
What if passion falls upon us and we close in an embrace,
and I only just had time for one, which headlight should I face?

I began to get my headaches then and circles ‘neath my eyes.
Tank tops. Bikinis. Oh, my God! What about the nipple size?
I haven’t been to work for weeks, I’m afraid I’ll have to quit.
They’ll just have to understand I need to find my one true tit.

Your jugs are haunting all my dreams, my brain’s begun to hurt.
For the goals of scientific truth, can I feel inside your shirt?
I have the highest respect for them, um, I mean, of course, for you
so let me reach inside your bra (a day or so should do).

I’ll need to check the taste and weight
and then I must evaluate
the aeroles so delicate
(as I’ll attempt to demonstrate)
so if you would cooperate
and lay back, I’ll investigate
each thoroughly and meditate
on which bongo would captivate
and fascinate and titillate
me much more than its pretty mate
and if I should miscalculate
I’ll have to start again… hey, great!