In pain I want for nothing,
It's slain my lust for *******,
In vain I shan't be working,
To gain a woman's raw thing.

**** for a magic potion,
Sliced by a druid's sickle,
I rub it in like lotion,
To cause my seed to trickle.

The lambda is the Greek-L,
But even those gods - fickle
In lending me the mir'cle :
Insertion of a full-grown dickle.

(Now my song is over,
You heard it there in Dover,
Unless drown'd by your lover.
I'll stick to my ***** glover.)