When Phyllis punts, she wields the pole
With tiny hands in dainty style,
Inconsequently chatting while
We slowly move towards our goal.
When Phyllis punts, I long to lie
And idly watch her laughing face,
For seldom does such lisson grace
As hers delight a lover’s eye.
BUT what with thrusting skiffs aside,
Entreating pardons by the score,
And pushing off from either shore –
I’m far too fully occupied – when Phyllis punts!
I think he is dreaming of Phyllis’ punting! This was the back drop to our bed this week in Oxford. It seemed a shame not to take a fun picture!