Why does the poet sigh for love,
Why pine for milk-white breasts
When what he would prefer to do
Is sink his teeth in lusty flesh:
O give me wet and quivering thighs,
And give me hungry lips,
And give me eyes that burn with fire,
And give me bouncing hips!
And give me toes that curl in pain
From ecstasy sublime,
And give me heat from woman’s groin
When intertwined with mine!
Why mince words, why sigh for love,
Why plead for virgins pure:
Why waste your time on love divine
When what you want is woman sure.