I fear I may not find another love
Of such delicious and ravishing joy;
No friends, no food, no fun can be above
Flirtations of a goat—so cute, so coy.
Oh goat, ah goat, I want to touch you so
And run my fingers through your bristled beard.
Ah goat, oh goat, I must become your beau
E’en if it shows my manhood truly sheared.
And if you run, and if you hide, I’ll seek
With all my sickly strength and weakened mind,
O’er hill and frosty countryside so bleak
Until your frightened, bleating face I find.
There is no wonder like a good goat fuck;
If living, or better, dead, I must suck.
