A confession. (WARNING: CRUDE LANGUAGE)

I am partial to generously proportioned posteriors, and I cannot deceive. Thither menfolk cannot deny... That when a maid enters in with a narrow abdomen, And a spherical object near to your eyes, You achieve the horn. Wish to approach with bravado. For you observed that derriere was stowed with exceeding difficulty, Deep beneath the frock which adorns her. I am enraptured and I cannot avert my eyes. Oh my lady, I desire to be with you! And render of you a painting. My kinsmen tried to dissuade me. However, yonder posterior you possess enlivens my unmentionables. Ooh, backside possessed of smooth qualities! You say that you desire to journey upon my courser? Well, make use of me, make use of me! For you are no common sycophant. I've beheld her dancing, To the nether with romancing, She is sweat. Wet. She has it charging forth like a war-trained destrier. I am vexed by petty courtiers, Suggesting flat backsides are to be desired. Take the average African man and ask of him, She must bundle much in the tail end. So, yonder men. (Indeed!) Yonder men. (Indeed!) Is your bride in possession of "the rump"? (Most verily!) Implore of them to brandish it. (Brandish it!) Brandish it! (Brandish it!) Bradish that healthy posterior! Maiden has aft. (Orleans face with the Strathclyde booty) Maiden has aft.

... ...

What? You mean to tell me Sir Mixalot wasn't an 8th Century knight?

................

Well don't I feel foolish.