They wriggle, they writhe
They flash their thighs
To try to make us hot inside.
They kick, they jump, they strut their stuff,
The drooling crowd can't get enough.
They twirl their pom-poms in the air
To erotic music's brassy blare.
They take it to the utter max
Short of performing the actual act.
Who cares about the football players?
They're just a bunch of steroidal meatballs.