Trolley Dolly

My husband hated my shopping trolley and would never go anywhere near it - so I had to change his mind.  

Trolley Dolly  

 

He said it wasn’t sexy,

He said it wasn’t cool,

To go shopping with my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

A girl out on the pull.

 

When I took it out to Tesco,

He would walk ten feet behind,

And he’d never touch the trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

So I had to change his mind.

 

One evening at the theatre,

I knew just the thing to do,

Saw potential in my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

To create a sexual stew.

 

The next time we went shopping,

I would give him a surprise,

And show him that my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

Could transform before his eyes.

 

It was in the central isle,

Between the cornflakes and the Daz,

That I revealed my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

Could deliver All that Jazz.

 

As the music hit the airwaves,

I exposed my fishnet thigh,

Took stilettos from my trolley

My wicker basket trolley,

And looked him in the eye.

 

Then I threw my trolley backwards

Dragging it across the floor,

Lifting legs astride my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

As I straddled it some more.

 

Come on babe why don’t we paint the town,

I whispered sexily,

As my heel flipped up my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

And I caught it on my knee.

 

Then everyone joined in,

With a shimmy and a shake,

As I draped across my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

Gliding passed the ready bake.

 

Then holding on the handle,

Tipped my head back to the floor,

Kicked each leg out from my trolley.

My wicker basket trolley,

As the crowd called out for more.

 

I performed a single back flip,

Wicker basket in the air,

Landing square onto my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

Running fingers through my hair.

 

By now he was just staring,

He could not believe his eyes,

They were fixed upon my trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

Caught between my fishnet thighs.

 

Now upon the weekend,

He’ll put on his black string vest,

And he’ll run to fetch the trolley,

My wicker basket trolley,

And I’m sure you know the rest.

 

copyright@dellareynolds2017