Passionfruit Sherbert (after Christopher Marlowe)

Come dive with me and be my dove,
And we will all the treasures trove,
That puddles, trickles, ponds, and lakes,
Their waters move, and shorelines shake.

And we will lie upon the strands,
And watch the bathers split their pants;
To sallow sun-stroke victims' cries
I'll sing your name and stroke your thighs.

And I will bake thee choux of pastries
And a thousand other tasties,
A cup of flour, and a kettle,
Will test my able baker's mettle.

And under all your overalls
Your underarms, whose aerosols
extract your fragrant pheremones,
Your sex, expressed in saxophones.

Your living room, a frantic coitus
ecstacises your introitus,
And if this joy your sofa moves,
Then dive with me and be my dove.

The humid heat shall curl and fry
My mustache. August and July
Once gone, if still your heart mine moves,
Then dive with me and be my dove.




(The Passionate Shepherd to his Love, by Christopher Marlowe

Come live with me and be my love, 
And we will all the pleasures prove, 
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, 
Woods, or steepy mountain yields. 

And we will sit upon the Rocks, 
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks, 
By shallow Rivers to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing Madrigals. 

And I will make thee beds of Roses 
And a thousand fragrant posies, 
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle; 

A gown made of the finest wool 
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull; 
Fair lined slippers for the cold, 
With buckles of the purest gold; 

A belt of straw and Ivy buds, 
With Coral clasps and Amber studs: 
And if these pleasures may thee move, 
Come live with me, and be my love. 

The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing 
For thy delight each May-morning: 
If these delights thy mind may move, 
Then live with me, and be my love.)