Distant queen of the dew soaked rill
awaits her king to receive her fill
in lonely bedchamber time stands still
she scribes him with luxuriant quill

"Oh king when will you return to me?
Can you not my wretched sorrow see?
My ***** they yearn for your regal member
and your return to my bed chamber"

But,

He knows not of the squire by night,
the cowherd, butler, acolyte,
the vicar and the choirboys three,
when he's abroad, he's not to see

And

She knows not of the maiden's bed,
nor of the ***** newlywed,
the novices in the covent far,
the nubile maidens of Zanzibar...