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.