Against the charms our ballocks have, | |
How weak all human skill is, | |
Since they can make a man a slave | |
To such a bitch as Willis. | |
| 5 | Whom that I may describe throughout, |
Assist me, bawdy powers; | |
I’ll write upon a double clout | |
And dip my pen in flowers. | |
Her look’s demurely impudent, | |
| 10 | Ungainly beautiful, |
Her modesty is insolent, | |
Her mirth is pert and dull. | |
A prostitute to all the town | |
And yet with no man friends, | |
| 15 | She rails and scolds when she lies down |
And curses when she spends. | |
Bawdy in thoughts, precise in words, | |
Ill-natured though a whore, | |
Her belly is a bag of turds, | |
| 20 | And her cunt a common shore. |