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Ancient animals tupped even
as they ran,
Their glans barded with blood and excrement.
Our fathers proudly put on display their members
From the fold of the sheath to the grain of the bag.
In the middle ages for the female, sow or angel,
You needed a fellow with really solid equipment;
Even a Kléber, according to his breeches
Untrue perhaps, can’t be dismissed out of hand.
Furthermore man to the proudest mammal is equal;
The enormity of their member stuns us wrongly;
But a sterile hour now has tolled: the equine
And bovine have tightened rein on their ardors, and nobody
Dare nowadays erect his genital pride
In copses where a buffoonish childhood teems.
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