songs of evening begot began like
a sleepy dream  of a couplet rhyming
along the river banks on a night such
as this, once in a misty moonlit time
her white dress on, him a lowly servant
the ball so gallant when he asked her did
she want a  truffle or a kiss and she
blushed magnificently in the sight of
all the wealthy visitors courtesans
in the court that night whose words were lonesome
and forced, they said their taught entreaties but,
she fancied the waiter and his black tight words
the way he winked when he said truffle or
a kiss