The arrow still lacks the fletching
That will guide it straight to her side
And in her heart, nothing is stirring
When she cedes to one of her knights
She mocks not a little the gondolas,
The starry-eyed, the gallant speech
The Venuses of the old school
Those who make love for love
Don’t believe now
That the devil stokes her carnal desires
He stops short at the first chakra
Her seventh heaven lies untouched
She never heaves a sigh
After reaching cloud nine
And views, with a curious eye, those
Who make love for pleasure
Nor should you think her love’s for sale
When one’s laid her on her spine
One is not obliged to disburse
For her presence a sumptuous gift so fine
Before attending the Bacchanalia
She offers not a single quote
And has nothing to do with these pretty miners
Those who make love for gold
But why on earth then does she give herself
Without heart, without gain, without pleasure
If love is not worth a banter
Why does she play the game at leisure
If any suitor, without pressing suit
Can help undo her gown
It’s because she wants to be in vogue
Because it’s à la mode, and she’s a snob
But customs change and lasses too
Perhaps one day, in her bare breast
Will be planted for the rest of her life
A little arrow gone astray
She’ll never be seen but in gondolas
She’ll go and play in turn
The Venuses of the old school
Those who make love for love