An ode to soap dodging women By all love's soft, yet mighty powers, It is a thing unfit That men should fuck in time of flowers, Or when the smock's beshit. Fair nasty nymph, be clean and kind, And all my joys restore By using paper still behind And sponges for before. My spotless flames can ne'er decay If after every close, My smoking prick escape the fray Without a bloody nose. If thou wouldst have me true, be wise And take to cleanly sinning; None but fresh lovers' pricks can rise At Phyllis in foul linen.
