Lord Andrew(A Letter)

Oh My Lord,I visited you whilst you were asleep I was praying that somehow your life slip Today I heard what the preacher preached He said all suitors prepare,the bride has reached Then here is you My Lord, Who promised me Silver and Gold That our son be heir to the throne And now you throw at me stones I understand dear Lord That my touches now leave rashes And that my kisses leave your lips cracking But am I still not your Dutchess Then my Lord,if though can't give me Silver, Give to me Gold If though can't make my son King, Give to me thy throne Lord Andrew Sir, If thou can't satisfy my flesh Feed my bone