When she lips my reeds
In a fierce pucker
I shiver
When she caresses my bocal
I quake
But when she is flicking me
I’m off to the moon
Careering in flight
Bellowing with warmth
Almost as intimate
As when she fluttertongues
And drives me wild
Tickling me from my butt
To my bell
How silly to have been called
A bundle of sticks
And how I hate the name Fagotto
Makes me sound like I’m gay
I’m the most masculine
And most well-endowed
My length is well hidden
Eight feet look like four
In Sergei’s music
I sound the grand father
In Charles’ music
The marionette marches
The only thing better
To be born a contra
Sixteen feet
If I were human?
Big hands
Big feet
I’d bend over myself
Feeling like the fellow of Kent
And I would have to be screwed
To be played
I’m satisfied though
Just as myself
When she sits my strap
I can goose her
And watch a smile
Play on her face