I asked her 'May I now yuck fu' <br />and she responded 'voulez-vous? ' <br />I noticed she spoke only French <br />and laid her down on the park bench. <br /> <br />'Yuck fu', I said again this time <br />attempting to commit this crime <br />against society's good taste <br />my words though were a total waste. <br /> <br />And then she sat back up, the bitch <br />and yelled at me 'bun of a sitch' <br />I asked if she was off her rocker <br />to which she whispered 'fothermucker'. <br /> <br />I'd had enough now, pushed her down <br />and ripped to shreds her evening gown, <br />she fought a bit, that cocking funt <br />but it was really just a stunt. <br /> <br />Much later she was quite content <br />and did not ask me to repent <br />we met two poofters, what a gas! <br />one told the other 'uck your fass' <br /> <br />To which the first one whispered then <br />'of all the world's good-looking men <br />I picked the biggest diffest stick <br />can't wait until I duck your sick.' <br /> <br />Please excuse the language. <br />English can mest the tettle of the best. <br /> <br />This poem is dedicated to: <br />Monsieur Bon Rerge <br />Amicalement.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/clean-language/
