To the Anglo-Saxon Insult

1 February 2015

You ass-out art against artlessness;
brazen bawd, bull-bladdered bushwhacker;
you churlish clown, clapper-clawed crower —
we’re dizzy-eyed at your dog-breath wit.
Ear-tweaker, you stink-eye the elf-skinner
& flap-jaw gill-faced flax-wenches. Fools’ folly
galls: you gully-wump gorge-gut gearheads.
Haughty, hag-faced, hedge-born harpies
can importune — ill-bred impertinents!
Your jar-head jolts fell jack-a-napes
with knock-out punches. You keel-haul knaves,
rout louts soundly, leverage lewd-ass lurkers,
maul all mammering manikins & mewlers,
nix ninnies & nix the nut-brained.
Oh, your onion-breath, ox-eyed grace & the
power of a-pox-upon-it praise!
The querulous quail; they quiver, queasy.
Dear roguish, raw-boned rut-rapscallion,
you are so saucy! Shag-worthy, smutty!
Even the toad-titted, shit-faced, toast you.
Unmuzzled urchins wax unctuous,
while wanton wags go whey-faced at your
yeasty quim jokes. Chain-yanked yes-men
zip their lips, zit-faced. Zounds! All praise you.

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