Mud Pie

How stings the rain upon my skin
and seeps through hair down spine,
to pool along the crack of arse
and chill these balls of mine.

Your laugh does mock my noble thought
to shield you from this storm.
Ah, such the price of chivalry;
a maiden's unfair scorn.

Oh, laugh you now, my lover fair,
as you discover that
though likewise dank, this bolt of flesh
is anything but flat?

What say now you, as in the mud
together we do clinch,
with laughter coming from us both,
my sassy, saucy wench?

A shower hot do you desire?
Your wish am I about.
So shall you have a steamy bath,
both within and without.