Ballade un peu banale

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The bellow of good Master Bull Astoundeth gentil CowThat standeth in the meadow cool Where cuckoo singeth now.

She stoppeth in a moony trance Beneath the timeless treesWhile ebon-bellied shad-flies dance About her milk-white knees.

He snuffeth her from distant field-- Sly Farmer Pimp approves:To him the gates and latches yield; He smiles upon their loves

Bull boometh from the briary bush, Advanceth, tail aloft--The meadow grass is long and lush, The oozy turf is soft.

He stampeth with his foremost foot, His nostrils breathing bale;Uncouth, unhallowed is his suit; The vestal turneth tail.

He feinteth with his ivory horn, Bites rump, bites flank, bites nape--Sweet Saviour of a Virgin born, How shall this maid escape!

He chaseth her to pasture wall; She maketh stand, poor bird!He wields his tail like an iron flail. Alas! he presseth hard!

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I like to think sweet Jesu Christ, For His dear Mother's sake,By some miraculous device, Her to Himself did take;

That her preserv'd Virginity Flutes holy flats and sharpsIn that divine vicinity Where Eliot's hippo harps.

© Arthur James Marshall Smith