Haste, haste my verses with your sharpened teeth
And seize my randy fundament beneath,
Which, swelling, lustful, both on heat and rank
Is made a balding corpse whose flesh is lank.
Behold its hairless brows and dribbling lips,
Its wrinkled cheeks on which a red eye drips,
All toothless save a pair of fangs that rot
Below two nostrils running o'er with snot;
Its foul-breathed, open lips with mucus flow
While ancient, useless tits like cobwebs show;
Beneath a sagging gut and scabby quim
Dry, skimpy buttocks wormy to the rim;
Both legs, both arms are shrivelled up and dried,
The joints stick out, the heels are one kibe.
Be sure there's nothing worthier rebuke
Or aught more guaranteed to make you puke.
But here all hucksters, carters once you'd find,
While butchers, hangmen, millers here would grind,
Here soldiers, servants, porters joined the band
And mule-drivers got a one night stand.
Now no one sees me, no one wants to talk,
They all deride me and my arsehole baulk,
Which, red with misprised lust, yet hotly burns,
And, shameless wanton, for still others yearns.
But now 'tis less a bum than corpse to rot;
Whene'er it itches (and when does it not?)
Is it to ask that I restrain desire
Or that I should myself put out the fire
As if I were an ass, a dog, a boar?
Be off, be off, abominable whore!
You either are a real anus or
Some wretched hobgoblin or graveyard muck;
And, if the choice were mine, I'd rather fuck
A sow than you, or satisfy my itch
Upon some farmyard ass or common bitch.