I’ll love my sweetest Ipsitilla
My delish, my pretty hare!
Tell me to come to you round about lunchtime.
And if you command it, I’m there at your bidding.
Let none bar the house’s doorstep
And make not your pleasure then to go out,
But stay at home, ready for us
To do it nine times in one long ****.
Alright, if you ask, I’ll obey on the spot:
Once having dined, I’ll flop supine
Poking out of my tunic as well as my cloak.