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with eyes and loins ablaze, I spy my prize;
my chamber won't be lonely 'ere this night.
My tongue will trace your lips and creamy thighs;
each whispered dream I'll gladly soon requite.
I draw my sword and slice the air with glee.
Just hear those oohs and aahs, can you resist?
My codpiece glimmers, yes, I know you see.
Of course, you'll learn its powers, I insist!
But to the bookish scribe you saunter near,
you pay no notice to this jesting man.
For pity's sake, you swoon and hold him dear,
while I look quite the fool with sheath in hand.
Oh, woe be me, in shame, I bow my head,
but look, a sweeter lass will grace my bed!
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