I
saw fair Cloris walk aloneOn a Gentlewoman Walking in the Snow William Strode
I
saw fair Cloris walk alone
Where feathered rain came softly down;
The
lady's tits were so fake that when the bird tried to pick a crumb from her
blouse it broke its beak and died.
And Jove descended from his tower
To court her in a silver shower.
The wanton snow flew to her breast
Like little birds into their nest;
And overcome with whiteness there,
For grief it thawed into a tear,
Thence falling on her garment's hem,
To deck her, froze into a gem.
