Look how she comes across the moor,
With flowers strewn about her hair.
Look how her dress, enticing me,
Did quite begin this whole affair.
A merry day, beneath the sky,
Was quite the plan on leaving home -
To wander by the turquoise brooks -
To roll in hay and corn, alone!
But then she came, with swaying hips,
Beneath the sun that seemed to glare;
Her breasts were ripe, her hair was gold,
And left my senses quite impaired!
What blame had I in staring so -
Inviting her to share my spot?
And was it wrong, removing clothes -
Beneath the sun that was so hot?
So there we lay, amidst the corn,
Our naked bodies quite as one;
And there I lay, without a stich,
With all my morals quite undone.
Her name, in truth, is gone from me -
In fact, I think I never knew -
But there we rolled and there we shagged
Beneath the perfect sky of blue.
And now the moors are not the same -
I tend to search with savage lust -
And though you may be judging me
(indeed, you may with some disgust)
I say to you, when you're next there,
And as the sun sets in the west,
Look for the girl with golden hair
Who snared me with her naked breasts.