When I’ve just washed twenty pairs of pants
A sonnet hardly seems the way to write
Even if my major rhymes are slant
I doubt if it’s an appropriate new sight.
As for cleaning drawers and pantaloons
To even think about those makes me weep
And yet one must not give up too soon
In favour of a pot of tea well steeped.
Oh,knickers are a fashion very scant
With thongs,bikinis, waist high ones or low
And likewise for a man are underpants
Though men don’t seem to worry if they show.
In human life with underwear be wise
Let your choice of underpants be lies
How my heart sings 