Batter my heart, three-person'd God, for you
know that’s how I like it, goddam yes!
Battery-powered, my three wheeled trike!
Batter my hotdog, invisible sky-daddy;
a salt and pepper assault and battery.
These things always seem to fall in threes.
A three way, in a tree, a three person’d
ménage à trois, have a heart. My God!
O God, my God you heartless bastard. O
personable, impassioned impersonation.
O my God! For you! And all for you alone,
I batten down the hatches of my heart.
Accept your thrall, too expensive to be free.
Now chase me round the couch and ravish me.