The Pearl/Volume 4/THE REVERIE.

What dull and senseless lumps we'd be, If never of felicity We tasted; and what bliss is there To equal that of fucking rare?

An age of grief, an age of pain, I would endure and ne'er complain; To purchase but an hour's charms, While wriggling in a maiden's arms!

And hugging her to heavenly rest, My hand reposing on her breast! Her arse my own, her thighs my screen. My penis standing in between!

My bollox hanging down below. And banging 'gainst her arse of snow; Or else grasped firmly in her hand, To make my yard more stiffly stand.

How soon the blood glows in the veins, And nature all its power now strains; The belly heaves, the penis burns. The maiden all its heat returns, Till passion holds triumphant sway. And both the lovers die away.