Ugh! This is pure rubbish!


Well, the authors is not in control of his emotions. They're galloping all over the place . . .


I wouldn't want this wild horse near me hymen.


Don't you realize the only hymen that counts is in yer heart?


As a virgin most kyrie
With whum I chunt a lei-sion
While cherubs hover in the heights
And doves soare beyond
The bars of logic an threads of time.

Ah, when her sweete glarie ist unveil'd
My heart malts in a sizzle of delight
From the fields of Neufactel
She, wiyth a fragrance so genteel of laeda
Coos among dark cedars at night.

Arr - her maeden hairs are exquisite
Like the freshly wealed civet fur
Wet with the scent of passion
And a wild mare's intoxicatin' curr.

Betottle what others whisp'r
And quirk to all astrologers!

The stallions of my heart gallop -
and we'll travel far
on steeds ah delight!

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Copyright (c) 1996, 2012 by T Newfields. All rights reserved.
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