The wind shifts in my direction,
bringing the smell of my affection.
My love, my goddess, my Aphrodite,
untamed and wild, my harlot, my gypsy.
Without fault or spot, without sin or vice,
but then, some sin, is always nice.
Red wine on her breath, whispers of trust,
bring thoughts of sex, love and lust.
Beauty and danger, my dear Ann Boleyn,
eyes only for me, a king among men.
Her presence like wine, so invigorating,
be careful, too much is intoxicating!
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