Scene: the court of Elizabeth I
By my troth, Rebecca, regard her backside.
It is quite broad.
She appears like one of those musician’s mistresses.
But, verily, who can make out their speech?
They only court her because she dresses like a lady of ill repute.
I daresay, her backside is so uncannily large.
I can scarce believe its rotundity! It’s – I mean – regard it!
I enjoy shapely women and I cannot lie,
My kinsmen cannot deny,
When a lady enters with her corset tight,
And her ankles all in sight,
You get aroused! Unsheathe your sword,
If thou art a manly lord,
When you see the gown she’s wearing,
Her bustle hath got you staring,
Oh, lady, I wish we were alone,
So I could write you a poem,
I know I should cool my head,
But I won’t stop till we are betrothed,
Ooh, skin of alabaster,
You wish to ride in my carriage?
Well lay me, slay me,
Because you are the rarest lady.
I’ve seen them dancing,
No need for romancing,
She’s sweet, meet,
And very light on her feet.
I tire of proper ladies,
Hiding their backsides dainty,
Take a proper gentleman and and ask him,
She cannot be thin!
So, gentles? (Yea!) Gentles? (Yea!)
Does your lady have the rump? (Indeed!)
Tell her to carouse! (Carouse!) Carouse! (Carouse!)
Revel with that shapely rump!
My lady hath back!