Swings by his thigh a thing most magical! Below the belt， beneath the folds of his clothes it hangs， a hole in its front end， stiff-set and stout， but swivels about. Levelling the head of this hanging instrument， its wielder hoists his hem above the knee: it is his will to fill a well-known hole that it fits fully when at full length. He has often filled it before. Now he fills it again.

----------------------- a key

I’m the world’s wonder， for I make women happy --a boon to the neighborhood， a bane to no one，
though I may perhaps prick the one who picks me. I am set well up， stand in a bed， have a roughish root. Rarely (though it happens) a churl’s daughter more daring than the rest --and lovelier! --lays hold of me， and lays me in larder.

She learns soon enough， the curly-haired creature who clamps me so， of my meeting with her: moist is her eye!

-----------------------an onion

A young man made for the corner where he knew she was standing; this strapping youth had come some way--with his own hands he whipped up her dress， and under her girdle (as she stood there) thrust something stiff， worked his will; they both shook. This fellow quickened: one moment he was forceful， a first rate servant， so strenuous that the next he was knocked up， quite blown by his exertion. Beneath the girdle a thing began to grow that upstanding men often think of， tenderly， and acquire.

----------------------- dough

I’m told a certain something grows in its pouch， swells and stands up， lifts its covering. A proud bride grasped that boneless wonder， the daughter of a king covered that swollen thing with clothing.

-----------------------a churn

A lovely woman， a lady， often locked me in a chest; at times she took me out with her fingers， and gave me to her lord and loyal master， just as he asked. Then he poked his head inside me， pushed it up until it fitted tightly. I， adorned， was bound to be filled with something rough if the loyal lord
could keep it up. Guess what I mean.