When remember I all the excellencies
That make us go into supreme ecstasies
Will someday be rotting fast away
In the grave and eventually turn to clay,
How my merry heart droopeth down
At once, letting go of my lady's gown!
  And my risen sun it duty shelves.
    
    The same fate thee awaited,
       Even if thou wilt be cremated.

So all those ravishing things of jolly joy
Which heaven on women glaring bestows
That turn a beefy man to a lackey boy
Shall by and by become the shadows
           Of themselves!

Howbeit I recalled the words of Solomon,
That man needs must relish is ***** wife
And his chosen work in this vain life,
Hence my hanging duty again was done
            In jolly, jolly yummy
     With honey, honey mummy.