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Though he found the foot-tickling a certain disgrace
There was something between us I thought I could trace,
Yet a fragment of challenge the Dean could embrace
As he worked on the knots and I studied his face;
While his mighty decorum I vowed to erase
I was growing more anxious to pick up the pace,
And I eagerly longed to be making my case
With his succulent barefeet to serve as my base;
Then with all the Dean's eloquent laughter to chase
And my heart beating wildly as if in a race,
There was suddenly silence all over the place
For the Dean of Decorum had pulled out a lace;

Then with anticipation advancing the bout
As I planned to relieve him of all of his clout,
When I'd tickle his feet til they flopped like a trout
And the Dean would be wishing he'd suffered from gout;
For the skills that I'd show would be well worth a tout
And I'd show him what foot-tickling's really about,
While he learned that I wasn't the person to flout
He'd be ever so ticklish, I hadn't a doubt;
Be he ever so sure his resolve was so stout
I could trump what the Dean of Decorum could spout,
Next there came from the townsmen a rousing great shout
As the Dean's second shoelace was bravely pulled out;

So the moment came nearer and tension still grew
Either time had stopped cold or it raced as it flew,
As I studied them tootsies and found me a clue
That would make them real ticklish before I was through;
Then the greenest of greens turned cerulean blue
While the Dean seemed to pray I concocted my brew,
What he'd bitten was more than he ever could chew
And my foot-tickling fingers would fill him with rue;
With his visage so fine turning paler in hue
He let out a great sigh and I suddenly knew,
As the Dean was accepting the thing he must do
He reached down to his left and he slipped off his shoe;