sonnet Ill grace you lady

Ill grace you lady Gambol dont ask how
I love you deeply dearly through and through
I cant rewrite a future fickle now
Review refines as fact a clue in lieu
You know I love you when we rant and row
And swap sweet nothings greatly overdue
You fume infertile fraught it furrows brow
Ill never quit you hurt at home at pew
At castle base above a water spring
Wizard Whyff whisked alkali and acid
Mixing moat of water cool and placid
Granting baby gender blessed by brass ring
Old saddle sores had stifled gamete count
I mended misted moist by magic fount
Chorus count number tally