The following is a poem written by my wife.
Our Ethel always wore her vest and never cast a clout, Until one day she tried it out when no-one was about. She sauntered round the patio then up the garden path, Concealed behind the privet hedge, in case the neighbours laughed. Now with wicked wild abandon, oh! she cannot get enough, She's a fully paid up member of, you've guessed it, In The Buff.