Adapted in the light of useful comments. Views?

A Northern Pub. Sunday's 'entertainment'.

The Sunday Stripper

When the Sunday Stripper's music
bumped and ground to a halt
across the red-faced silence
the ageing bully cried
"keep going lass, I'll sing for thee"
and the answering roar belied
its echoing of fear.
As well-scrubbed coal roughed hands
groped dog-eared dirty books
a bit of extra profit
peddled on the side,
she displayed her life-soiled sexual wares
demanding penetration,
all she got was stares.
As hate surged over longing
she, knowing, made them laugh and
as the comforting wave of humour broke
she smiled at her private joke.
"Come on luv, let's do thee" -
she nods, but he sneers to his mates
as she thrusts her sex towards him
exulting victory.
"I could do thee some good lass" -
the vanquished saving face,
so she swings her breasts towards him
with contemptuous taunting grace
"I'll fuck tha' rigid tha' dirty cow"
the handsome face contorts;
her exit shouts "I doubt it."
In the space she leaves behind her
only the real dark forces
are standing naked now.

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