A Handiwork of Short Temper

As a hurting song is being sung, At a white polo shirt is flung What can have been a cow’s dung And on same it foully clung And on a nearby face hung; All a hurried indiscreet challenge By one refusing to change, As though it is beyond his range, The idea pointblank strange Or one’s denial of a sweet orange! At last, the fastest arrangement for a detergent, Lest victim should arrange his brother sergeant… “Once again, the quick-to-burst temper Proving it can with a lot tamper.