Song

A poem by John Wilmot

Quoth the Duchess of Cleveland to counselor Knight,
"I'd fain have a prick, knew I how to come by't.
I desire you'll be secret and give your advice:
Though c*nt be not coy, reputation is nice."

"To some cellar in Sodom Your Grace must retire
Where porters with black-pots sit round a coal fire;
There open your case, and Your Grace cannot fail
Of a dozen of pricks for a dozen of ale."

"Is't so?" quoth the Duchess. "Aye, by God!" quoth the whore.
"Then give me the key that unlocks the back door,
For I'd rather be f*cked by porters and carmen
Than thus be abused by Churchill and Jermyn."

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Song' by John Wilmot

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy