The Crude and the Rude
I fought to stay like wood
On where I had long stood
Concerning 'who is crude'.
And who's rather the rude
Which of the two is good?
Both sides could make one brood,
Wake up with aches and fluid.
The crude's manners are nude,
The Rude betrays bad mood.
To the World he's The Shrewd,
Whose views are not pooh-poohed...
But who can near his food?
I could sup with the crude,
Sometimes the crude damned good:
You're free in his gown with hood...
This I'd tried with Rude Jude
And still over it brood.
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