The poem
Lord, I'm grey, my face is run, But by old Harry, I've had my fun; And all about, I seem to see Lads and lassies that look like me; Ice-blue eyes on every hand, Handsomest youngsters in the land.
"Old Stud Horse" they say of me, But back of my beard I laugh with glee. Far and wide have I sown my seed, Yet by the gods I've improved the breed: From byre and stable to joiner's bench, From landlord's daughter to serving wench.
Ice-blue eyes and blade-straight nose, Stamp of my virile youth are those; Now you'll see them on every side, Proof of my powers, far and wide: Even the parson' handsome scamp, And the Doctor's daughter have my stamp.
Many a matron cocks an eye Of secret knowledge as I pass by; As for the hubbies, what they don't know Will never hurt them, so let them go: The offspring most they seem to prize Have blade-straight noses and ice-blue byes.
Yet oh, I have a haunting dread Brother and sister lust the bed; The Parson's and the Doctor's lass, Yestreen in the moon I saw them pass; The thought of them wed is like a knife. . . . Brother and sister - man and wife.