Plucking Rose

Once, upon a cool March day
A maiden, ripe, upon her way
Espied a plough-boy in the hay
A-mowin' for his cattle
Thought she, "The lad is strapping big
Unlike that old and feeble prig
My father fain would, for a fig,
Wed to me in a twinkle

"Mayhaps I can my Dad dissuade
And all his wedding plans evade
By setting on an escapade
With yon good strapping ploughboy!"
Thought she of how to meet the lad
Without appearing raving mad
And make the boy her Galahad
To rescue her from bondage

Now thought she of her apparel,
Worn-out wool and polished flannel
With many patched and fading panels
On her attire showing
How could she then the lad impress
If her worn out and fading dress
Implied a dowry under stress
To every passing stranger

Mayhaps the lad would not take note
And would to her devotion quote
If his arousal she'd promote
By dressing less demurely
There was, she new, a river near
Where plough-boys often did appear
To wash the dust from hair and ear
And other dirty places

So scurried she by way of woods
To that clear pool and there she stood
Behind a bush, perchance he should
Come wend his way to bathe there
All burly through the woods he came
By dint of noise did he proclaim
That he was eager for to tame
The sweat and odor on him

As she did hear him some way off
Her skirt and bodice did she doff
Then only in her thin shift cloth
She plunged into the water
When she arose the cloth did cling
To every curve and vale and zing
Revealing nearly everything
A lass does us'ly cover

So when the lad the pool did find
Her image brought some things to mind
His priest would have him leave behind
When he did make confession
Curious, then, the boy did grow
As from her shift the water flowed
And all her charms the wetness showed
So clearly through her garment

Her auburn hair, in glistening curls
Cascaded, then, in plastered swirls
Upon the bodice of the girl
Or where she should have worn it
With hazel eyes she flashed him bright-
ly thoughts of invitation sprite-
ly and her lips did Oh so slight-
ly part to make him greeting

Then did she utter, "Well met, Good lad.
A hard day you have surely had
Dispense with that in which you're clad
And come enjoy the water"
The blush upon his strong shy face
Her lingering doubts, it did erase
Revealing thus an inner grace
That she found most appealing

He stumbled as he shed his clothes
And as he did his interest rose
In she from whom the water flowed
In such inviting trickles
He dove into the water cool
And as he stroked across the pool
He prayed he would not play the fool
With this inviting lassie

"Sweet Maid, pray tell, what is your name?
My own in Tom", he did proclaim
Then wondered at the maiden's game
That she was with him playing
"They call me Rose, such is my luck
And like a flower that's ripe to pluck
My petals have come all untucked
Upon thy swift appearance"

"A flower thou art", thus answered he,
"A lotus or a pond lily
Revealing all thy grace to me,
A toad who seeks a footing"
"Methinks thou art a prince, good sir,
My kiss to make thee what thou were?"
Thus did the lovely maiden purr
Unto that burly plough-boy

A kiss she gave and he returned
And neither did the other spurn
Bat gave way to all they did yearn
All wetly in the water
He held her close and kissed her well
And face to face they kissed until
Her undergarments somehow fell
Into the pond they stood in

He took her up into his arms
The better he could keep her warm
And close attend her many charms
Which she did offer to him
He took her to a willow tree
Its branches gave them privacy
And there engaged in ecstasy
With that sweet willing maiden

Two hours, they, with merry pleasure
Exploring all the secret treasures
Filled the loving cup full measure
Till afternoon turned evening
Then she went home and so did he
Their parting was a sight to see
With many urgent, tender pleas
To meet upon the morrow

Next day she did her steps retrace
Until she came upon the place
Where she'd first seen the handsome face
That so inflamed her passion
No sign was there of plough or ox
She only saw a passing fox
And, by the road, a wooden box
In size, less than a handspan

It peaked her curiosity
As sure it would for you or me
And so she peeked inside to see
Just what were then its contents
A scroll of parchment, ribbon tied
Petite beneath the lid did lie
Our Rose let out a "Drat and Fie!"
Because she could not read it

She took it to a scribe in town
And begged "Pray tell, what's written down?"
Her pretty face drawn in a frown
From worry o'er her plough-boy
"It says. 'To Rose, the peasant wench
You must appear before the Bench
This day at noon'", Her heart was wrenched
In terror at the wording

"Whose seal is that upon the wax?"
"The King's man who does gather tax
And known he is to be un-lax
When folks avoid the payments"
"I owe no tax of which I know,
Yet to the Bench I still will go
For fear the trouble I should sow
Were I to scamper from it"

With trepidation went the lass
To where grim judgments oft' were passed
Before the Bench on lawn of grass
Where many stood in witness
Her father was among the crowd
And not a word was said aloud
As, dressed in silk and stepping proud,
The taxman took his seat there

"Is Rose among the crowd this day?"
The haughty taxman then did say
She stumbled forth, her pallor gray
And curtsied to the taxman
She'd never seen his face before
Yet, looking at him, she was sure
His eyes were strangely familiar
As if she knew his brother

"Be thou Rose, who by the river
Filled up with a ploughboy's quiver
Promising to love forever
The strapping lad you knew there?"
"Yea, Good my lord, the lass was me
And treated he most tenderly
The virgin that he then did see
Beside the rolling river"

"Know you, then wench, what was his name
When with him you did play your game?"
"He told me Tom", did she proclaim
Before the crowd to witness
"Oh, Tom indeed!" The taxman cried
"And did you think that he had lied?
And told a tale your lips to pry
That he might kiss them freely?"

"Nay, lord, he was most quite sincere
And if the lad was standing here
He would to me devotion swear
And seek my hand in marriage"
"Bring forth the lad", the taxman said
And seeing him, her pallor fled
Yet silks were on his coat and head
And surely she was puzzled

"Young Thomas is my only son
From time to time does he, for fun,
With plough in hand his oxen run
Upon the fields we own here
"It seems you have his young heart tamed
And he has to myself proclaimed
That he would with you share his name
And all that he possesses"

So there, before the gathered crowd
They tied the knot and said aloud
Their pledges of the wedding vows
And said them with a true heart
Now this, the tale, makes maidens sigh
Of gentleman who would not lie
But raised a lowly wench on high
When Rose did pluck her Ploughboy