Firkin In the Meadow

When May cometh full in bloom And robins and **** build afresh their room Many a maid and her swain Be found in the meadow lain Methinks the churl that he be - knoweth sin With his manhood waxing anon to the full in Her vale of all delight Nay, she putteth not up a fight But verily teaseth with hips Of a rocking motion like ships And bosoms of snowy mead Yea, twixt them a man would need Nought but time to enjoy the feast Time even till the sun riseth in the east Oh, such ecstasy and sinful joy Between yon maid and ploughboy Must needs be stopped by laws And by the pulpit priest’s roars This scandal in our midst may seem To blacken every villein’s dream The energy of their loins Were better aimed at minting coins Or milking goats or shearing sheep Each day before they sleep Woollen coats or cheese to cheer Or firkins full of barley beer Were better use of Maytime sun Than meadow frolics as time doth run. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Note My apologies for the cheap double entendre in the title . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . Entered in Lisa Cooper ~Dark Poetess's Contest I want some old English scandal!