• She Lay

    When a youthful lad I was,
    I dreamt of a rather beauteous lass.
    When I became a man of prime,
    I took that pretty lady for a dime.

    Aye, 'twas a pretty harlot that I saw,
    A beautiful lady without flaw,
    Luscious lips and silken hair,
    Swaying, playing with such flare.

    I remember now to my dismay,
    Just where that lady lay,
    With all her delicious flaring play,
    As my father had his daring way.

    Home from school straight I came,
    And never again was I the same.
    For on that rather eventful night,
    My dreams were set alight.

    Upon my fathers bed lay she,
    with her looks ensnared was he,
    Roses twined within her hair,
    Red as crimson, lips of a pair.

    A silken sheen her raven hair,
    Fair as fair beyond compare
    Jewels on her naked skin,
    As my father thrust within.

    And in retrospect, I sadly think,
    Since then I haven't slept a wink
    Without that glorious lovely face,
    Invading my mind's endless daze.