The Dirty Song

If the woman's hips are ample
Then I want her in the hay
Skirt and stocking all a-rumple
Cheerfully, for that's my way
If the woman bites in pleasure
Then I wipe it clean with hay
My mouth, her lap together
Thoroughly, for that's my way
If the woman goes on loving
When I feel too tired to play
I smile and go off waving
Amiably, for that's my way