Fair figure wrapped in veil of fragile skin
Soft visage kept in shade from ray of sun
The posture of your legs moan, “Come on in”
Meanwhile, your rolling eyes do much to shun
For men of flesh and blood and not of tin
Can forage far and wide intent on fun
But only when she liberates her sin
May that intrepid gent boast battle won
The maiden fair may not be quick to lay
On quilted bed or plot of grassy ground
She may not rush to cast off virgin’s mask
Unless she knows a man is there to stay
Until she’s sure a husband’s what she’s found
On that day, all he need to do is ask
