Knicker Nicker at the mall,
Who’s the naughtiest lad of all?
Who’s that little lamby-kins
Nuzzling the mannequins?
Are they only nasty rumors
You’ve a nasty thing for bloomers?
Don’t you know what they will say
When they find the lingerie
Stolen from the girls’ department
Hidden in your glove compartment?
Did you hide your mommy’s knickers?
Did you cop the baby sitter’s?
When you visited your aunties,
Did you nick the family panties?
Knicker Nicker, are they watching
When you nick the neighbor’s washing?
Do you prefer the well-maintained ones,
Or do you rinse and wash the stained ones?
As a baby, did your Nannies
Catch you looking at their fannies?
And is it fannies that you covet,
Or just the lace that makes you love it?
Aren’t you worried if a cop
Finds you in that halter top,
Nightie, garter, nylon stocking,
That your friends will find it shocking?
Under this undie-obsession,
Is there lurking some aggression?
Something kinky, stressful, straining,
In your early toilet training?
What dark, deep, internal wars
Might explain these stolen drawers?
Bare-foot boy with cheek of tan,
Who could fault you, little man,
Skipping through the summer trees
In your sister’s pink chemise?
But now that you’re forty three
Is it so unfair if we
Think that you should come to grips
With your closet full of slips
And bras with undergirding wires?
Get a grip on your desires!
Join a man’s club! Be a man!
NRA or Ku Klux Klan!
Ladies’ underwear? For shame!
Go and watch a hockey game!
Run a marathon! Jog!
Burn your Fredrick’s catalog!
Naughty nicker, so coquettish,
What’s the reason for this fetish?
Will we ever know the answer,
Lonely, little, lady-pantser?