The wooing of a noblewoman

How thine breast doth flutter
At tender words mine lips doth utter

A goodly noblewoman thou art
With love abound within thine heart

But whilst thine love be more than fine
Thine other parts be more divine

Scoundrel, vagrant and cur I be
Let mine wickedness take seed in thee

Let mine words woo thee true
Make thee blossom love anew

I be not some gallant lord
But yet still have a noble sword

It daren’t leave a lady waiting
Not when lust be need of sating

So let me lift thee noble’s skirt
Let me fill thee with a squirt

Thee lord husband need not know
Tis mine seed thine belly grows.