A spot of poontang on a five-foot piece,

Diminutive, but room enough … like clay

To finger eager on some torrid day …

Who’d throw her black hair back, and hang, and tease.

Never, not once in all one’s horny lease

To’have had a demi-lay, a pretty, gay,

Snug, slim and supple-breasted girl for play …

She bats her big, warm eyes, and slides like grease.

And cuff her silly-hot again, mouth hot

And wet her small round writhing—but this screams

Suddenly awake, unreal as alkahest,

My god, this isn’t what I want!—You tot

The harrow-days you hold me to, black dreams,

The dirty water to get off my chest.