I lay on my back in the long,
Long grass, while Marie teased my dong,
With fingers and lips,
While my head 'tween her hips,
Was teasing her clit into song.

(Poetic licentiousness.)

A noise! I arose from my back, ter
See old farmer Giles in his tractor,
With dung spreader fitted;
'Twas time that we flitted,
Frustrated, and still I'd not facked her.

(Next time you hear Poet and Peasant, picture the scene.)

We strolled through the woods to the river,
In peaceful surroundings I'd give her,
A length of old Oggy,
in style straight or doggy...
Again though, I could not deliver.

For some indescribable cunt,
Was arsing about in a punt,
With foul outboard motor.
I told him to go ter
The depest of hells for that stunt.

One last try.  We climbed the church spire,
In belfry I'd quench my desire.
But no fornication,
Tintinabulation,
Of bell tollers quenched quite my fire.

(No wonder Quasimodo got the hump.)

Marie, in a huff, up a left,
So I went to the farmyard to heft
A young heifer's snatch...
But who there should catch
Me but old Giles's wife , who so deft...

...Grabbed hold my throbbing appendage,
And tripped me in ways to upendage,
And then, (if you follow,)
Cock, pullet and swallow,
Which brings this odd tale to an endage.