For all your Duds are bing’d awast
The bien Cove hath the loure.
I met a Dell, I view’d her well,
She was benship to my watch;
So she and I did stall, and cloy,
Whatever we could catch.
This Doxie Dell can cut bien whids,
And wap fell for a win;
And prig and cloy so benshiply,
All the Deusea-vile within.