Of consequence she speaks, yes I
have seen that gleam within her eye,
when chance appears for mischief made
with crackers, cats and lemonade --
just mix with rum and fur will fly.
"But soft!" the poetasters cry
"What light is she illumined by?
How dare she mock, that sluttish jade
Their verse, it comes from God on High
to nestle on a lover's thigh --
for bathos works to get you laid
by fools; I'd rather face the blade,
bare breasted to this poet-wry