Hurried Poetry Series for a Ghastly Campaign, VXXII
Praise for Geoffrey Chaucer
____________________________
(In which we employ unrepentant, spontaneous verse after hearing a racist skank one too many times for comfort.)
Mr Chaucer, O that ye knew
what delights you left for our tongues:
Ribald, quaint begins to describe your language of blaspheme and fun.
Chickens or eggs happening first don't really seem to matter:
Whether you heard 'fuck' or just made it up - we love your damnable chatter!
Most of the time, our quivers are full with things that Webster left us
Until dreadful hos with fangs not teeth insulted but never out guessed us...
With a warning for parents to cover the ears
of their wee ones yet tender and pure,
They'll perhaps find us harsh, unrelenting
saying that which is wise to abjure...
Perdition looms, but Ann Coulter made us just say oh hell just screw it
We wanted to call her anything but that, but alas! We simply cunt do it!
(Tiny curtsey)
____________________________
(In which we employ unrepentant, spontaneous verse after hearing a racist skank one too many times for comfort.)
Mr Chaucer, O that ye knew
what delights you left for our tongues:
Ribald, quaint begins to describe your language of blaspheme and fun.
Chickens or eggs happening first don't really seem to matter:
Whether you heard 'fuck' or just made it up - we love your damnable chatter!
Most of the time, our quivers are full with things that Webster left us
Until dreadful hos with fangs not teeth insulted but never out guessed us...
With a warning for parents to cover the ears
of their wee ones yet tender and pure,
They'll perhaps find us harsh, unrelenting
saying that which is wise to abjure...
Perdition looms, but Ann Coulter made us just say oh hell just screw it
We wanted to call her anything but that, but alas! We simply cunt do it!
(Tiny curtsey)
posted by Dustin at
12:21 PM 
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