Pome

O, my love wears lipstick on his nose,
His toes are so bright blue,
And my love is like a malady
That's cheesy buns for two.

As fair, bogwart, my bonny plaid,
So deep in doubled ice,
And I win other stills, Mycroft,
When older sheep run by.

When older sheep run by, aloft,
And drops another one,
Then I will undersell my deer
While bands of mice have fun.