Hard Core Bo Peep 1

Sweet shepherdess; awake and hear the dove
That tries to raise you from your slumber!
Startle it not into the sky above
When the Morphean grip you disencumber!

Seek instead to encounter my embrace
And suffer the onslaught of ready lips
Upon the idyll beauty of your face,
And sometimes even on your naked hips!

Be predisposed to my bucolic touch
And respire in the pastoral heat
Which has us both up at night so much
That at the strike of noon we both are beat,
Beaten by the love we try to capture
Pursuing mutton, fleece, and your rapture!