Ode to Sunny Dave's writing and Gness on return from her Yorkshire w/end.
So, me Sunny Dave, I've done for thee, you ungrateful hussy, done,
To help thee in milking thy coo-tits, e'er day our wark begun?
And when thy well-stripp'd Lass kye ‘ would yield no more,
Still on tied on me chair, thee reeking bra ye made me bore.
And, oh I bethink thee, what thee do, spout lovesome talk
We've been tied together, yer bra straps down the balk,
Maund'ring ' at time which would na for us stay,
But now, I ween, I wait no such hast, binga fer yer, me ale slow away.
Yet, Lass yer retturn eft soon, nae coins int purse, ease my bondaged woe,
And to some up yon stairs iron stocks an bed you told me go.
And there again us leet some kinky days restore,
Where, unassail'd by a meety; you them Gness domme in power.
Our cattle yet may feed, tho' AB Marsh be no more.
But wae wae off is me ! I wot I fand ' am drowned,
Forgetting yer, Gness, yer is already orgasmically there
And Vicar Ven aims e'er Lady Day us to wed.
Them banns last Sunday in't AB church were bid.
But let me, let me first i' t' churchyard Ug,
For soon I there must gang, my pains so big.
All them bra straps yer have me in, sussies some comfort me find,
them stockins black and err good fer tea when laddered;
Though that there tony like me reduc'd, yet Minty and Lady J's kind,
Both of us haf drugged and Theakstons bladdered
Yer tell me, Sonny Dave yae ne'er be changin yer mind
And though his goat fleece no more our parson Venator taks,
And NoM roasted goose, dainty Voddie food, our table lacks.
Redman ale, Ratter coider, nungate's Scotch
the whole bleddy reception in favour of yer Gness berrom botched
Yet he, that Tony for tithes ill done and paid, he gets goat land.
While I am ev'ry way o' t' losing me handcuffed hand.
My kinks been wared,' a chapter fer the Tykes’ Thirty Shades of Grey,
My body wracked, with yer Gness maimin’, me penis laing flown far away.