In error I booked in to a cheap hotel
Frequented by very odd clientele
You could tell that it wasn’t great
The room even had an hourly rate
I had not expected a peaceful night
Within an hour I was proven right
Through paper-thin walls it comes
A steady rhythm like beating drums
The rhythm growing more intensely
Then passions are expressed vocally
Then came the squeaking of springs
An almost orchestral feel it brings
Grunts and groans they both express
Then in soprano she adds yes, oh yes,
Then the crescendo and then no more
Well for ten minutes until the encore
Later I wished after due consideration
That he’d not asked the same question
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