Might I speak love to the standing wench And her offer the space on my bench? Will I ever the strong urge quench To praise her in The Finest French? I should my passions share with a wench I could never from her Adoration wrench To always her fragrance sniff, not stench And rain never let to her skin drench… Yes, readying myself for a honey moon I should want with her too soon, Some day in Paris from morn to noon… Plan I to wait but not till June For thee to compose us a love tune.