Foreplay, with its strangled moans,
Looses errant pheromones —
Coupling, with its sweats and suction,
Follows chemistry’s production.

Muslims knowing this, then, rightly,
Bid their women wrap up tightly,
Which, in turn, may lead to quarrels —
Covert odours know no morals.

Gravity and stone are dead,
Life is mess and lust and dread,
Physics may put worlds in play —
But chemistry rules DNA.