If I love and serve my beauty with good heart, Must you think me common and a mug? She has in her all that a man could want. For love of her, both sword and shield I lug; When people come, I run and fetch a jug, And get some wine, as quiet as I can do't I offer water, cheese and bread and fruit. If they pay well, I say to them : "Good Sport! Come again, when you feel in rut Here to this brothel where we hold our court'/' But then disharmony its reign does start When Margot comes to bed and brings no cash; I cannot bear her, but feel a deathly hate. I snatch her dress and petticoat and sash, And swear I'll keep them all instead of cash. She, arms akimbo, cries: 'Tou Antichrist," And swears to me by death of Jesus Christ It shall not be. And so I grab a stout Stick, and on her nose my message write, Here in this brothel where we hold our court. Then we make up, and she lets out a fart, Since she's more bloated than a venomous bug. Then laughing, claps her fist upon my pate, Calls me cute, and hits me in the leg. Completely drunk, we both sleep like a log. And when we wake, her belly shows its might, She mounts me, so as not to spoil her fruit. I groan beneath her, squashed flat like a board; By lechery she has me ruined quite, Here in this brothel where we hold our court. Come wind, hail, or frost, my bread is won. I'm a lecher, she's a lecherous one. Which is betterr We are both as one. Bad cat, bad rat: each a no-good sort. Garbage we love, garbage follows on. We flee from honor, from us it flees, is gone, Here in this brothel where we hold our court. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 1: 3. WINTER by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE ANTONIO by LAURA ELIZABETH HOWE RICHARDS ON BURNING A DULL POEM; WRITTEN IN 1729 by JONATHAN SWIFT COMEDY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH EN PASSANT by EDITH COURTENAY BABBITT THE BALLAD OF BAZILE BORGNE by IDA COLE BARTLATT |