I remember Vanessa Redgrave as Guinevere, singing this song in "Camelot." Easy for her, with her flowing skirts, flowing hair, and full-to-bursting breasts. Not to mention her Maypole. Do you know anyone who has a Maypole? Think of what AC Moore would charge for all those ribbons. Or maybe they're available cheap on eBay. But Guinevere didn't have to worry about such things. Queens just demand ribbons, and they appear—borne on a pillow carried by a lustful knight.
The month of May traditionally finds me in the garden. What man in his right mind would lust at the sight of me digging in the dirt in my grubbiest of grubbies with black-rimmed nails, stringy hair, and face smeared with sunscreen? I am breathing hard, but only because the weeds are stronger than I. As for my passion, it is soaking in a five-gallon bucket, awaiting the planting that will take place as soon as I finish digging a big enough hole.
But judging from the activity my son saw yesterday in the woods, and the noises we heard last evening, May is indeed a lusty month if you happen to be a turkey. Or a duck.