When you use Zest on your chest every day,
and your pecs and your breasts, you’ll keep rhin “yikes!” at bay.
When you use Zest, you will cleanse with élan,
keep aromas tamped down and land many a fan.

You cleanse with that soap…as if you’re disinfected.
You never will mope or feel at all dejected…
won’t be rejected.

Then you’ll be fresh in an bath-empath way;
from your pits you will thresh dirt, along with that “hay.

When you use Zest, you’re clean and fresh.

When you use Zest, you won’t engender frowns
in the ladies and gents who sniff vents when you’re ’round.
When you use Zest, you’re the tingliest thing;
you’ll cause joy, not be banned for annoying with stink.

Use Zest; you’re not jeered for stinkin’ up the kitchen.
The room won’t be cleared—
it’s better than a wickin’ shirt for your schvitzin’.

Smear on that Zest; just forget shower gel—
use a washcloth or not; it’ll lather up swell.
Loving that Zest will you be, and with pride
you’ll be drenched, and with stench you’ll no longer abide.

Emerge and get dried; with schmutz you won’t be ridden;
no one’ll have cried, “That schmuck should be forbidden!”
’cause your smell’s hidden!

Fear not with Zest that you’ll be indiscreet,
whereas one time you stank, your pose now: posy-sweet.
Use that soap from your forehead to your feet!