These boots are made for walking–down stairs. Carrying a fine lass, will step off last step merit from pleasant passerby a side-glass at legs apass?
Taradiddle may have been told. Meeting in the middle was sold. But, kicking to curb was cold. These boots are bold. They break hearts, even those of gold.
Morat spilt is now on sole, but better that than gum for mulberry-honey attracts sweet souls whilst pepper-mint repels not scum.
While exoteric points enchant Plain Janes in scuffy shoes, toward holders of esoteric interests skip Ritzy Mitzis in buskins footloose. ; )