She Purred, While I Grrred

Her fruit was ripe, I bit

Her fruit was ripe, I bit

I'm nothing more than a humble mongrel

whipped cast, rash and unabashed

Her fruit was ripe, I bit

Her fruit was ripe, I bit

pungent juice wept from the bruise

where the skin was sluice and slobbered on

though the meat was fleshy and sweet

she purred while I grrred

I die every day, to live every night

under the industry of her want for me in our fusty foundry

please no ceremony, I want she, I want she, no matrimony

My fruit was ripe, she bit

My fruit was ripe, she bit

in her belly lay a pip

a'brooding in the oozing

My fruit was ripe, she bit

My fruit was ripe, she bit

huffing and puffing on the mattress stuffing

upon the bunk a fervent funk

in my butcher's hands her soft fruit tendered. She never pretended...

she purred while I grrred

I die every day, to live every night

under the industry of her want for me in our fusty foundry

please no ceremony, I want she for laundry, I want she so I'm not lonely

I want she, I want she, not matrimony