The masked theme is, apparently, still running.
Along came Molly with her handbag and a brolly
And a mask to cover all and any fears,
At five foot ten she socked it to the men
Who reduced any woman down to tears.
Half brick in the bag, she was no one’s hag,
An avenger with a twinkle in her eye
Hidden by the mask, enjoying each and every task
And that, my friends, I’m telling is no lie.
Strutting on the street, she greeted all she met
With a jolly jape for all who hailed her friends,
Legs up to her neck, brolly held erect
Baton, nightstick, brolly use no end.
Patrollers when they viewed presumed that she was new
A lady of the night with fetish weird,
Mask, bag, brolly, a monumental dolly,
Confidence exuding, nothing feared.
Men who asked the way or offered her to pay
Were directed to the ladies, caution told
‘Be good to my sisters,’ warning all the misters,
Some there were who answered, brash and bold,
‘I’ll treat them how I please once I get them on their knees,
I’m paying so I get to do my thing’,
Then Molly got real close and whispered, nose to nose
They scurried off, ne’er seen in parts again.
The misters who were keen, abstained from being mean,
Were surprised when Molly shook their hands and squeezed,
For Molly was a dude just doing what he could
To balance equality displeased.
A brolly laden maiden with a brick inside her bag,
A crushing hand, a mask that hid her growth,
Legs that went for miles, an empathetic smile,
Ex-copper, superhero light on toes.
Now Molly was a mister who’d had a little sister
Who’d embraced the oldest trade since time began,
He didn’t judge the men though he took no shit from them,
Bitch-slapping hypocrites as only superheroes can.
Watch out for Big Molly, a mister-sister dolly,
Protector of all women, punters too,
As long as there’s this trade, mister-sisters should
Remember Molly loved his sister, just like you.
scottishmomus 