[sultan88]

See where she comes, and smell how all the street,
Breathes vineyards and pomegranates: oh, how sweet!
As a fired altar is each stone,
Perspiring pounded cinnamon.
The phoenix-nest,
Built up of odours, burneth in her breast.
Who therein would not consume
His soul to ash-heaps in that rich perfume.

Robert Herrick (1591–1674)

[Mudboy Slim]

She ain't bitin'...MUD