Classic Poem

I will not bear it,
I do declare it;
I will call out if you're so rude. H E :
Madam, I know it,
Your looks they show it;
I plainly see that you're a prude. She :

A prude, what then, sir?
I scorn such men, sir;
Pray leave me to myself alone. H E :
Sweet, pretty creature,
Compose that feature;
Prudes ne'er cry out but when they're blown.