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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391758" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ballad of Villon and Fat Madge</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘'Tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation.' -Falstaff<br>‘The night cometh, when no man can work.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What though the beauty I love and serve be cheap,<br> Ought you to take me for a beast or fool?<br>All things a man could wish are in her keep;<br> For her I turn swashbuckler in love's school.<br> When folk dropp in, I take my pot and stool<br>And fall to drinking with no more ado.<br>I fetch them bread, fruit, cheese, and water, too;<br> I say all's right so long as I'm well paid;<br>‘Look in again when your flesh troubles you,<br> Inside this brothel where we drive our trade.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But soon the devil's among us flesh and fell,<br> When penniless to bed comes Madge my whore;<br>I loathe the very sight of her like hell.<br> I snatch gown, girdle, surcoat, all she wore,<br> And tell her, these shall stand against her score.<br>She grips her hips with both hands, cursing God,<br>Swearing by Jesus' body, bones, and blood,<br> That they shall not. Then I, no whit dismayed,<br>Cross her cracked nose with some stray shiver of wood<br> Inside this brothel where we drive our trade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When all's made up she drops me a windy word,<br> Bloat like a beetle puffed and poisonous:<br>Grins, thumps my pate, and calls me dickey-bird,<br> And cuffs me with a fist that's ponderous.<br> We sleep like logs, being drunken both of us;<br>Then when we wake her womb begins to stir;<br>To save her seed she gets me under her<br> Wheezing and whining, flat as planks are laid:<br>And thus she spoils me for a whoremonger<br> Inside this brothel where we drive our trade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Blow, hail or freeze, I've bread here baked rent free!<br>Whoring's my trade, and my whore pleases me;<br> Bad cat, bad rat; we're just the same if weighed.<br>We that love filth, filth follows us, you see;<br>Honour flies from us, as from her we flee<br> Inside this brothel where we drive our trade.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  I bequeath likewise to fat Madge<br>  This little song to learn and study;<br>  By god's head she's a sweet fat fadge,<br>  Devout and soft of flesh and ruddy;<br>  I love her with my soul and body,<br>  So doth she me, sweet dainty thing.<br>  If you fall in with such a lady,<br>  Read it, and give it her to sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Fran%C3%A7ois+Villon">François Villon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391758" data-title="The Ballad of Villon and Fat Madge de François Villon" data-description="‘'Tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation.' -Falstaff
‘The night cometh, when no man can work.'

What though the beauty I love and serve be cheap,
 Ought you to take me for a beast or fool?
All things a man could wish are in her keep;
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