His hastiness evident in the first lines,
calling me “coy”, one of the signs.
My reluctance is not at all coy
you verbally oversexed boy!
It will take more than words to a virgin
to allow such a persistent man in.
I liked the history and geography
to describe the extent of feelings for me.
I don’t like the words – “vegetable love” –
if you have something to prove.
But thirty thousand praises to my vagina,
when I have seen nothing uglier!
The last age is dedicated to my heart,
which should have been mentioned at the start.
Then he threatens time and eternity
to persuade me when I should lie.
Women know some men have worms, others snakes.
It is in the craft that the difference makes.
My “quaint honour” is to convince a virgin
to spread and let a horny man push in.
If his lust is then burned to ashes,
I will have others to make passes.
I know that none embrace in a grave;
I also know how and when to behave.
He says I have instant fires at every pore;
could a doubtful maid ask for anything more?
He then tries for the immediacy of, – now,
as if I was some in-season, on-heat cow!
Women know when a plough is erect;
urgent persuasion is what we expect.
Who are these amorous birds of prey?
One is a desperate man in my way.
To devour time, shows urgency,
but jigglesticks cause pregnancy;
and if that does happen to me
then I must carry the infamy.
To roll all our strength and sweetness into one ball;
such a new sport does not convince me at all!
And to, “tear our pleasures with rough strife,”
would only happen if I was his wife.
The sun won’t stand still, but maybe will run,
if we do give in to some sexual fun!