You Know

He'll have her. Know, he rather like her shy:
She's rather like a faun, that he will hunt;
She's learnt he likes to catch her so she'll cry
Her eyes out; she'll forgive him if he's blunt,
Expressing himself crudely - no offence
Is taken for she responds to control;
And she's aware that all the implements
He suggests, with a glacial stare, mean sole
Ownership's essential to his quest;
A faun, whose limpid flanks are striped without
Permission, ensures seconds of the rest
Will foul the stall he'd make for her and rout
All pleasant thoughts he might have (she could go
With aspirations to have)...yes, you know.