The Underwear Burglar's Lament by Amos


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Gadzooks, Batman, It's the G-String Gang! Holy Underwear! -- LONDON (Reuters) - Cheeky thieves, dubbed the "G-string Gang" by the British press, made off with thousands of pounds worth of racy underwear after a daylight raid on upmarket lingerie designer Agent Provocateur, a spokesman said on Tuesday. The central London headquarters of Agent Provocateur, a favorite among celebrities such as Kate Moss and Liz Hurley, was burgled over the weekend by thieves who carried off 27,000 pounds ($40,000) worth of lacy bras, knickers and corsets as well as shoes and jewelry. "We were all working upstairs when it appears the thieves broke down the front door and managed to steal the collections from the basement," said Agent Provocateur founder Joe Corre. But the thieves, who got away with the fashion house's new collection, had not made an intelligent choice in targeting such an exclusive boutique, he said. "The very nature of the designs, being so distinctive, renders them instantly recognizable, making it easier to track the thieves down, whatever they try to do with the collection." Agent Provocateur is known for its sexy, slinky and expensive designs which include one-off corsets, suspenders, stockings and G-strings. A spokesman for London's Metropolitan Police said the burglary was being investigated but there was no description of the suspects.

The Underwear Burglar's Lament by Amos
(Tune: No Use Fer the Wimmin (Click to Play))

I got no use for these undies
They're vibrantly sexy with sleaze
And I wouldn't feel right with a teddy
Over cotton BVD's
They're sexy and slim and salacious
They're tempting and naughty and sly
Though the visions they bring are bodacious
It's enough to make me cry!

I had a friend was a minor shoplifter
He was cleaver, immoral and quick
But he talked me into big trouble
With his quick-riches boudoir shtick
Now my flat is stacked high up with fashions
The bras tower over my head
And I can't bring my cute girlfriend over
'Cuz I know she'd cut me dead

These G-strings are no use to a feller;
As supporters, they're really too tight.
And I can't hand them out to the kiddies,
For attaching to their kites
All the girls I know would be offended
And ask what I mean to suggest
If I mailed them a corset for Christmas
So I think I'll move out West.

Yes, I'm bound for the wide open spaces,
Where menfolk know just who they are
And the gals wear ten-gallons and Levis,
Not them see-through bras of stars!
I'll change my name and my country
And out in the Wild West I'll stay
'Cause I'd rather wrassle a rattler,
Than a G-string, any day!