A winsome fellow was the bard
Dimpled cheek and tresses gold
Supple fingers - quite the lyre!
With cocky hat and feather bold ...
waggish as a pup.
Just one failing had he -
The bard would not shut up.
His sonnets dripped with honey
His rapture could persuade
The ripened peaches from a tree
The lemon into lemonade
The bashful blossom from a bush
The cherry from a maid.
He made the dowdy ragweed to
a strumpet of high calling
And every dame and daughter wished
she were a ragweed too!
They fed him cakes and cheese fondue
With sweet liqueurs they filled his cup
But tho' he heartily chowed down ...
The bard would not shut up.
He wooed them with his ballads
and sang their praises bright
Satin skin and dewy blush
inspired his delight
But even as a damsel
tore her stays and cried,
"O Bard, tonight you've said enough!"
and spread her petals wide ...
The bard would not shut up.
Nightly did the flowers
around his chamber swirl
Blushing pink and olive gold
Such a hothouse to behold!
They slipped beneath his coverlet
Hoping to be plucked,
but gladly as he welcomed them ...
The bard would not shut up.
Daily, hearts would snap apart
Throughout the town, the flowers died
For talk of love had heated them
And tales of lust excited them
And when he should have sated them ...
The bard would not shut up.
But Kate was of a different breed
No quiet violet was she!
No, Kate was of the jasmine seed
Night-blooming, and abundant
in her fragrance and her need.
She grabbed his golden tresses
and tossed him to the bed
and, hoisting up her ruffled skirts
leapt astride his head,
and muffed his words completely
O, what a stroke of luck!
His tongue continued neatly, for ...
The bard would not shut up.
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