Classic Poem

Upon Madam Severa and her Gierle Friskin

Like medlers lockt up safe when they are gotten
Not to prove only ripe for foode, but rotten
Soe did Severa to her girdle tye
Her Darling friskin for securitie
And hatcht this chickin still under her wing
Till the wingd God found means to cast his sting
Through her feathers and the gierle mans meate
Resents the Operation of his heate
And become Gamester, strair on payes her box
Then Like a Rotten Peare she's ripe with pox