In the water of the clear fountain ...

In the water of the clear fountain
She was bathing - with nothing on
A gust of wind, rain from the mountain
Showed us all, as she was born.

Damsel in distress, she made a sign,
Asked me to go and seek,
Leaves of rose, tulips divine
Before someone could get a peek.

With a few petals of a little rose,
I covered her up to the cuff
But the beauty was so very small
That a single rose was enough.

With the branches of a little vine
I made her a pretty skirt buff,
But the beauty was so very small
That a single branch was enough.

She clasped me with her arms so tight
Thanking me for the clothes so crude,
I took her with such manly might
That she was soon again in the nude.

The game must've pleased the maker,
Because at that fountain again,
She would have a bath - often
Praying - please let it rain!
Let it rain!