Look at Phoebe, noble and pious, my esteem for her only grows,

 but, when I am with Phoebe, I am on fire thinking of Sieblla,

full of disare, passion and, dare I say it, love?

But, when I'm with Sibella, whom do I admire? None but Phoebe,

perfect and lovely, who couldn't love her, heaven knows? Round and tound and round it goes!

Look at Phoebe, noble and pious

My esteem for only grows

But when I am with Phoebe, I am on fire

Thinking of Sibella, full of desire

Passion and dare I say it? Love.