One time within thee grass
I bent to wipe my ***
And where the paper thou?
For this I shall not know.
I sat in much despair
My muddy ***** hair
Drenched in a mud of brown
My whole world upside down.
Across the field I call
A fair maiden and where all
The grass spread like ROM
This maiden was my mom.
Alas! I called to three
A motherly lady
Who gave me parchment for the ****
I thank thee maiden, For not wiping is heinous.