In days of yore, as authors say,
There lived a spark, for am’rous play
By nature formed and well I ween,
He beardless was, and scarce eighteen.
Which for his purpose suited well,
As presently I mean to tell.
With nuns, well-stocked, a convent stood,
Hard by him in the neighbourhood;
He oft had viewed with longing eye,
The holy maids as he passed by;
Would sometimes stop, and at the grate,
To steal a look, whole hours wait.
At length with dull attendance tired,
With want of consummation fired,
To gain his point, at once he ventured,
And in disguise the convent entered.
The Abbess took him for a maid:
Coletta was his name, he said;
And then with reverence due he kissed her
As might become a holy sister.
Long had he not been there, I trust,
O! dire disgrace! but out it must,
Ere sister Agnes had been playing;
‘Twere better far she minded praying.
But so it proved, and by it got —
Perhaps, the prude may ask me, what?
And tell me, that I should have said,
A woful chance befel the maid.
Our Agnes, ever counted chaste,
Grew wond’rous round about the waist
And in due time, as it is said,
Of a young thing was brought to bed.
The holy sisters in amaze
Did at it, as a wonder, gaze;
As well they might, nor could suppose,
From earth, as mushrooms do, it rose
Or manna like, from heaven it fell,
Such miracles, they knew full well
Were long time ceased though (as they say)
Their priests work wonders to this day.
So all determined, nemine con.
It never could come there alone.
Besides, if I may speak the truth,
It much resembled this our youth.
The Abbess, in a mighty passion,
(For scolding then too was in fashion)
Vowed vengeance on the miscreant base
Who thus had scandalized the place;
And then for sundry weighty reasons,
Poor sister Agnes she imprisons.
Next, how to find the father out,
Began to make a mighty rout.
The house was guarded with such care,
The walls so high, no entrance there;
The nun, who kept the tower, was old
And proof against the power of gold.
These things premised, how it could be
She wondered much, though certainly,
A man there must be in disguise,
The which he wore to ‘scape surprise;
Therefore at once the truth to have,
She to the nuns this order gave,
Strip every maid to find this dragon,
Let not a sister have a rag on.
How this command perplexed our youth
Fearing thereby the naked truth
Must be found out, you all may guess
The more he racked his brains, the less
He thought it possible, that he
Should ever escape the place scot-free.
Until at length necessity,
The mother of invention, she
Assisted him with a device,
To ‘scape this scrutiny so nice,
And get clear off; it was to tie —
But, gentle reader, how could I
My meaning modestly express,
In words so clear that you may guess
What ’twas he tied, nor be mistaken,
How he contrived to save his bacon?
By this device all seem’d so flat,
There was no sign of you know what.
But sure the thread had ne’er been able,
(Were it compared in strength to cable)
To keep confined that boisterous part,
Some how or other it must start.
Had saints, nay angels too, been there,
The case had been the same I fear,
When, to full view, each lovely maid,
Stood in her birthday suit, arrayed,
With beauteous shape and graceful mien,
As those who wait on Cyprian queen.
The Abbess on her nose did wear,
Of spectacles a weighty pair;
For being old, they served her now
To search the matter through and through.
Surrounded by her twenty nuns,
Whose swelling breasts like new cross buns,
Or bladders blown by dint of wind,
Luxuriant rose; and you would find,
On them, in fact, were trial made,
A pea would dance as on a drum-head.
This put our youth upon the rack,
For fear the strait-tied strings should crack;
And so they did, for at one bounce,
Away it flew with mighty flounce,
As when a fiery steed disdains
To bear the yoke, and scorns the reins,
When once got loose; upright it rose,
And struck the Abbess on the nose.
The spectacles to the ceiling threw,
And nigh o’erturned the bearer too.
Who, you may think, enraged at this,
A council calls, wherein it is,
After debate, by all agreed,
With flogging this our youth must bleed.
This said, they seized the luckless wight,
And began to exercise their spite;
They tied him to a tree, that grew
Within the yard, of mournful yew,
Then went to search with indignation
For instruments of flagellation.
But fortune, who the boldest favours,
Blasted at once their cursed endeavours.
A lusty miller, on a mule,
Came riding in — they say no fool.
Could play at coits, and cudgel well,
Would kiss a girl, but never tell.
"Heyday!" said he, "what have we here?
A wond’rous pretty saint, I swear!
"But say, young man, I long to know,
"Which of the sisters served you so?
"Sure with the nuns you’ve been at play,
"And for it suffer thus to-day;
"For if there’s aught in strength of back,
"I judge you well a nun can crack."
The youth replied, in mighty dudgeon,
Thinking that now he’d catched a gudgeon,
"My friend, you quite mistake the case,
"For which I suffer this disgrace,
"Had I with their request complied,
"I never now had thus been tied;
"Besides a whipping too I fear,
"For being chaste — ’tis hard, I swear,
"Though must submit, howe’er it be–
"I can’t give up my chastity."
The miller straightway in surprise,
Laughing, the fast-bound cords unties,
And to the youth addressed this speech:
"Poor, scrupulous fool! I’ll save thy breech,
"You’ll cut no figure in this place
"Were but our parson in such case
"He’d ne’er behave as thou hast done;
"Quick tie me to the tree and run:
"You’re ignorant, I plainly see,
"And not for business fit like me
"Let all the sisters come, I warrant
"They shan’t return without their errant."
The youth not wanting better sport,
Soon tied him fast, and scampered for it.
The miller now stark naked stood,
In waiting for the sisterhood,
When soon of nuns, at least a score,
Who rods instead of tapers bore,
In order came, and one and all
Did presently to jerking fall;
While he provoked, as well he might,
Cried, "Softly, ladies, by this light,
"You’re in the wrong, I’m not that booby,
"But for the sport, as fit as you be.
"You’ll wonders see, if you’ll but try —
"Cut both my ears off if I lie,
"I am a devil at that same;
"You apprehend me — guess the name.
"But in this scourging, on my soul,
"A novice quite — an arrant fool."
"A fool?" a toothless virgin cries,
"If that’s the case, we’ll make you wise.
"Are you not father of the brat?
"For him you’ll pay, be sure of that!"
And then to whipping fell again;
The miller bellowed out amain,
(Fearing he was not understood)
"Ladies, I’ll — kiss you all, by God!
"Then cease, dear girls," he loud did bawl,
"I’ll do my best to please you all."
The more the miller cracked his jokes,
The more the girls renewed their strokes,
And flogged him with such dextrous art,
They made him loudly roar with smart,
While thus he underwent a whipping,
His mule upon the grass was skipping.
No matter what became of both,
It is enough he saved the youth.
And reader, say, would you have been
For fifty beauties in his skin?
(As found in the 1812 collection The Festival Of Love and attributed to La Fontaine. I ran across it at Classic Kink.)
And we young whippersnappers think we invented kink? Me thinks not.
Lyndee … you are more than welcome to steal this (because that’s kinda-sorta what I did after all *wink*) to publish at Pink Panty Cafe, where I’m thinking you’d have a most appreciative crowd.
xo, Angela
More your type?
