With jet-black hair and button eyes,
She winks beneath the stage’s skies,
A curve or two in plush display,
She makes the crowd look twice her way.
Her felted smile, her stitched delight,
Has wooed both left hands and the right,
A sultry sway, a coy little “ooh,”
The kind of puppet who knows what to do.
Though made of cloth, she’s quite the tease,
With every flick, she aims to please,
A star of velvet, foam, and jest,
The bustiest puppet in the west.