KUNIGUNDE

(Not autobiographical - one of a number of names I experimentally build rhymes out of.)

I met a girl called Kunigunde
At a dance at the Rotunda.
I called her “The world’s eighth wonder”;
She said my way with words stunned her.
Nordic maiden ripe for plunder,
I soon had her “up and under”.

Parting her long legs asunder,
We made love to sound of thunder,
Then my sheath tore – what a blunder!
Nine months on she was rotunder,
Gave birth to a bouncing wonder.
We wed, else her folks had shunned her.