Divine daughter of Eve,
With wings of gold,
And a lethal sword,
Do not raise up your skirt too high,
Or starved lads will feast upon your thigh.
You may have a conviction,
But not too vigorous,
Lest you be seen a shrew; an infliction.
Possess manners,
Yet not too noble,
Or you will be deemed a priestess.
Guard your beauty,
Make yourself an alluring view to behold,
But not too glorious,
Or else a tart, you will be called.
And your purity,
You must viciously fend,
Till your claws and teeth are bloodied,
Lest your name be muddied.
And sweet child,
Beware the forbidden fruit of desire.
You touch it,
It bleeds,
With honey and red wine,
Thus they set your satiny flesh on fire.
But don't you fret,
Heavenly descendant of Holy Mary,
Keep your head down,
Be wary,
And you will lead a life,
Unbound by regret.
