Herbert Nehrlich - Clean Language

I asked her 'May I now yuck fu'
and she responded 'voulez-vous? '
I noticed she spoke only French
and laid her down on the park bench.

'Yuck fu', I said again this time
attempting to commit this crime
against society's good taste
my words though were a total waste.

And then she sat back up, the bitch
and yelled at me 'bun of a sitch'
I asked if she was off her rocker
to which she whispered 'fothermucker'.

I'd had enough now, pushed her down
and ripped to shreds her evening gown,
she fought a bit, that cocking funt
but it was really just a stunt.

Much later she was quite content
and did not ask me to repent
we met two poofters, what a gas!
one told the other 'uck your fass'

To which the first one whispered then
'of all the world's good-looking men
I picked the biggest diffest stick
can't wait until I duck your sick.'

Please excuse the language.
English can mest the tettle of the best.

This poem is dedicated to:
Monsieur Bon Rerge
Amicalement.

Herbert Nehrlich

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