Donald P. Goodman III
We are children, all helpless, unable to walk or to speak as we weep in distress, inconsolable, suffering mightily, longing for motherhood's gentle caress; but then even when held in those soft, loving hands, screaming endlessly nevertheless; there's no remedy but for that virginal milk, the one thing that we all must possess!
The young woman, all flush from her childbirth, aglow with her sweat and the cries of her pain, and the stars, twelve in number, surrounding her head as she struggles her breath to regain, and her child crying out for her breast and the taste of what life and good growth can maintain: the good life-giving nectar of virginal milk, which no power on earth can contain!
When the dragon who waits at her birthing-bed, hungry, and hoping her child he can eat, batty wings spread out wide, with his dripping teeth bar'd, eyes aglow at the thought of his meat, any child of this lady will hesitate not, and will know to what he must retreat: to the virginal breast and its virginal milk, ever strengthening and ever sweet!
For we children are helpless, cannot help ourselves, and without mother's milk we would die, for the jaws of the dragon would sweep us away as for mother's sweet aid we would cry; but we suckle and grow, and gain strength as we go, and that nightmarish beast we defy: for the Giver of Life gain'd his life from this breast; for this virginal milk do we sigh!