Her fruit was ripe, I bit   Her fruit was ripe, I bit   I'm nothing more than a humble mongrel   whipped cast, rash and unabashed       Her fruit was ripe, I bit   Her fruit was ripe, I bit   pungent juice wept from the bruise   where the skin was sluice and slobbered on       though the meat was fleshy and sweet   she purred while I grrred      I die every day, to live every night   under the industry of her want for me in our fusty foundry   please no ceremony, I want she, I want she, no matrimony      My fruit was ripe, she bit   My fruit was ripe, she bit   in her belly lay a pip   a'brooding in the oozing      My fruit was ripe, she bit   My fruit was ripe, she bit   huffing and puffing on the mattress stuffing   upon the bunk a fervent funk       in my butcher's hands her soft fruit tendered. She never pretended...   she purred while I grrred      I die every day, to live every night   under the industry of her want for me in our fusty foundry    please no ceremony, I want she for laundry, I want she so I'm not lonely   I want she, I want she, not matrimony