Fame may be compared to a scold: the best way to silence her is to let her
alone, and she will at last be out of breath in blowing her own trumpet.
-- Fuller
The sky was dark, the moon was high
All alone just she and I
Her hair was sof her eyes were blue
I knew just what she wanted to do
Her skin so soft, her legs so fine
I ran my fingers down her spine
I didn't know how but I tried my best
I started by placing my hands on her breast
I remember my fear, my fast beating heart
But slowly she spread her legs apart
And when I did it I felt no shame
All at once - the white stuff came
At last it's finished, it's all over now
My first time ever at milking a cow....