Hard Core Bo Peep 2

Sweet shepherdess of aching desire;
Tug softly on the ewe of loaded teat,
Or knead love's cornucopian lyre,
But beat it not like some farm boy's meat.

Oh! Daintily pluck your eyebrow hair
Which will slowly sprout on our bivouacs,
Then pour fine wine upon our bodies bare
To dance like wild Dionysiacs!

Bring to my lips your comely thumb,
And whisper..."you have me when you say 'knead'".
Then with that thumb, the lyre to strum,
Where soon your joy is adroitly freed...
As free to frolic as the wild lamb,
Or like Erato's saucy dithyramb!