‘Tis a trick to be quick as a clock that goes tick-tick, And a gift to be swift (well, SOMEtimes, ye catch my drift?); But I know to be slow when with lady friend I go, Spend an hour in her tower, or a soft and shady bower. For I can kiss a hand, and then be a patient man, Let her find her own mind, and decide to be so kind As to grace kiss on face, asking me to please unlace Garb so tight, dim the light, and regale the merry night With a song, not too long; and it never would be wrong To caress her, and bless every shining braided tress; Does no harm to put arm all around her body warm, And to sip at her lip, and so lightly stroke her hip, Kiss her neck, just a peck, and then follow at her beck, Lay her head on a bed clothed in shiny satin red.... But no more, lest I bore you with too much tale in store; Brief to say, comes the day, and I must be on my way!
