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In ye old days of yore on Malaga's dreary shore
An untidy castle rimmed by salty moor
Housed a lonely, oft-drunk matador
In briny marsh grazed no sheep, but wild pigs three score
Staggering oft around soggy, muddy estate in boozed, dazed state; prating conquistador
With fitted bed sheet he dodged each, wild, voracious boar
On one fateful eve a rabid boar did his flabby posterior gore
Now ambitions stored, bedded his dreams, salved his sore 
'Til one morn, a damsel in distress swooned at his door
Bereft of virility, but saddled with tales of chivalric lore
A hearty tonic the prone maiden he did pore, and spouted tawdry tales galore
Unentranced by availing circumstance, his rambling advances she did ignore
Intoxicated by her lovely essence, her father's residence did implore
Confounded by his incessant inebriating pleas, she fell to the floor
Mistaking her bended knee as fealty to be, he let out a drunken roar
Enraged by his licentious intentions, she yelled, I will not take any more
Mind numbed from numerous droughts, he heard, I am your whore
Giddy, his infertile, limp shaft tried into her sweet mound to bore
But his drooping shaft could not breach her silty core
Frustrated the horny goad reversed positions. riding her till both were saddlesore
Finally breaching the chasm, his spent rod found reeling a chore
But her tapped well gushed and she yelled encore
Now understanding his riding days were over, he cried and swore
His ripening virgin unsatiated bade his pallid pilot her canyon explore
Now contrite, he explained fertile streams no longer from stagnant fount could pore
Giving due penance, purged the dross, and from her steamy vat tore
Forevermore an unfit paramour, jilted matador; who no longer his tainted cape wore

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