Youbidmetry dobson lah
You bid me try, to write a rondeau. What, forthwith, to-night? Reflect. Some skill I have tis true, but thirteen lines, and rhymed on two. Refrain as well. Ah, hapless plight. Still there are five lines, range to write. These gallic bonds I feared would fright my easy muse. They did till you. You bid me try. That makes them eight, the ports in sight, tis all because your eyes are bright. Now just a pair to end in ooh. When maid's command, what can't we do? Behold,
the rondeau, tasteful, light. You bid me try.
