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Rapiers aloft, we doff our hats to ladies,  trading jests, or swinging from chandeliers, fearing nothing as we slide a ride on grand bannistered stairs, wearing our military buckles. Lucky in love, we cavort the floor of the spurred herd's stomping-ground, with wild lust thrusting notes from formerly silent throats - to croak, howl, bellow, roar and bay. Displaying our fantails with rustling feathers, flicking quickly our red coxcombs, with sperm-sacks packed to overflowing, we offer our god-like bodies as tools for shaping another's joy.      Now men and women all should understand,      we've come and joined the copulatory clan.