"The king doth keep his revels here to-night:
Take heed the queen come not within his sight;
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,
Because that she as her attendant hath
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king;
She never had so sweet a changeling;
And jealous Oberon would have the child
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild;
But she perforce withholds the loved boy,
Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy:"
King Oberon walked into his bedchambers one clear and full-mooned night,
Only to lay eyes on the most arousing scene he'd ever cast sight.
A dark-skinned gypsy with which none's beauty matched,
Tied at the ankles and wrists by vines with magic catched,
Lying completely nude on a rose-pedal bed,
With a seducing expression on his black-haired head.
The one awaited so long by the selfish fairy king,
Would now be made a servant to whom pleasure would bring...
~Please review if you want the rest of this rediculously cheesey, rhyming lemon.~