Wicked

You prance your dance,
A wicked one,
With gleeful glinting eyes.
A toss of the head, and,
Oh, they croon
“He’s beautiful!”
Funny, how,
They miss that impish grin.
Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.
Oh no,
You’re the lean, mean
Jumping machine.

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Bit of a joke really, the lean mean bit anyway lol