There’s too much squawk, in New York;
where the pillow talk is craven.
If you do the talk, you do the walk,
and no more misbehavin’.
Pillow talk, and you do the walk.
Do the walk, you’re crazy.
Pillow talk, speaks with forked
tongue, to lovely ladies.
You cannot baulk, the pillow talk,
though pillow talk is hazy.
Keep it corked and do not gawk;
loose lips sink more than navies.
There’s too much mawk in pillow talk,
and too much talk is lazy.
Too little cheese and too much chalk;
too little lamb and gravy.
Pillow talk is mellow talk;
it’s black and blue and yellow talk.
Pillow talk is idle torque,
for the gassed-up head and gormless Awk.
Pillow talk, and you do the walk.
Do the walk, you’re loony.
Pillow talk while others stalk,
like right-wing Daniel Boonies.
Pillow talk is ham and pork;
it’s bloody whoops-a-daisy.
It’s kiss and tell that sells like hell,
and infects the world like rabies.
Like swooping hawk or wading stork;
the birds have flown like ravens.
If you do the talk, you do the walk,
and you’ll never be worth savin’.
Pillow talk, and you do the walk.
Do the walk, you’re crazy.
Keep it corked and do not gawk;
loose lips sink more than navies!
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