On your knees boy.
Your cheek astounds.
Does your insolence
Know no bounds?
Oh just keep still.
Don’t make a fuss.
It’s better for
The both of us.

You will obey.
When I command
And lick my boots
As I demand.
I don’t care what
You think you’re feeling.
I think I’ll hang you
From the ceiling.

An hour or two of
Roped up spinning
Will cure you of
Your wicked sinning.
You likened me
To fairground freak?
I was so cross
I could not speak.

I’ve taken out my
Biggest cane.
Now, tell me
What am I again?
Oh, not so bold now
Eh, my dear?
The Mistress makes you
Sweat with fear

But deep inside
Excitement bounds.
Exploding as
My cane resounds.
There, there
My little fawning pet
Punishment done,
You’ll soon forget.

I’ll kiss you better
Stroke your hair
I’ll use the ointment
Here, and there.
Now sit and rest
By nice warm fire.
Don’t stir again
This Madam’s ire.