Ode to my Boobs (re-edited and replaced)

Ode to my Boobs
Now men-folk, don’t come on all queer
Its time my boobs were mentioned here
But see, I’ll not talk coyly of my pillows of celestial love.
Mine are quite large there’s no escape
When I say ‘E’s, the sex-starved gape
But then they haven’t really seen
Quite what a size E breast can mean
When time and babes and joy and tears
Gives gravity some thirty years
To drag them down toward my waist
And swell then shrink them till I’m faced
With lumps of dough no seamstress’ skill
Can mould or capture or hold still
But still, they’re mine, though I’ll be blunt
I wish I could sleep on my front !