Pay Me By The Hour

I am the noblest of courtesans;
A concubine fit for a king.
But they chain me high in this dungeon,
Hung on the velvet swing.

I tremble on the ceiling,
A butterfly caught in their net,
The ropes suspend me, and bind my limbs,
And I haven't freed myself yet.

Sometimes, the men come to look--
Pay my master by the hour.
And sometimes, the men come; and give me gifts,
Their offerings white and sour.

I take whatever they give me;
On good days, I ask them for more;
They say that a horse led to water won't drink;
But they've turned me into a--

One day I'll bribe my jailer,
One day soon, I'll be free.
I'll go back to my rooms in the city,
And the men will give money to me.

I'll buy a new bed, silk not velvet;
I'll breed orchids and other fine flowers,
My days will be full and my nights will be fat,
Filled with men who pay by the hour.

I don't mind the job, or this strange lonely bower;
I just wish they'd pay *me* by the hour.

The End

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