Chewing on a filbert

Pondering and fingering

Lazing on her bedstraw

The lady thinks of love.

Of basting and of baking

Of dutious lovemaking

Of listening to tedious tales

The lady thinks of love.

A pomander of lavender

that she is loathe to squander

A noble book for reading

A cherished gift of love.

No more the hills to wander

She would be forced to launder

The lady thinks of duty

And the lady thinks of love.

She meets a fox awalking

No masculine asquarking

There’s freedom on the hillside

The lady thinks of love.

Her soul is priceless to her

Although her Lord might screw her

She decides upon her freedom

And the lady thinks of love.

For love’s a heavy burden

Unnecessary boredom

When you hear the call of freedom -

Go follow it my love!