My Lady Prima What secrets can I tell of her That noble, buxom goddess? Be she a maid, or maid it were Her manners shrewd and modest With wit as quick as any fox And laughter always handy Her beauty shines as to her flocks Each gentleman and dandy Their love for her is but increased Round tables of flirtation For when she chomps the sweetest feast She shows due moderation With charity surpassing nuns— Applaud her—sound the bugle! For never does she scorn the ones Deemed trivial and frugal And never would she dream her words Could be so misconstrued For like a colony of birds Like-minds are
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