A Bottle of Hay

Top old Bottom if you can,
You learned men of vision.
To get your ass to fairyland
Needs finer far confusion,
A sensuality secure
Bound to raw fancy's senses,
A mulish midnight madness
That kicks down all the fences.
Without the feel of mangy itch,
No Peaseblossom will scratch it.
No Mustardseed raw honeys fetch
Without a taste to match it.
Is your ass too white from study?
Elixirs too refined?
Forgot your hairy nature to glorify the mind?
Well, bottoms up, my hearty!
I'm off for beer and ale!
Take your champagne in forkfuls,
Ambrosia by the bale.