Did it irk the burrowing domain,
A crawlspace lit like pumpkin pie,
And prick a truly genius brain,
Till thoughts and deeds solidify?
Sanctimonious in a sewage vat
That leaked to opine and convey,
Contrived, pip-squeaked a petulant rat,
Some dysentery bug come out to play.
Pain that is mine I will express
However I see fit to tend,
I own the deeds and must confess,
To tell it as I comprehend.
Bear in mind such rigmaroles
In truth possess the said and done,
Opinions are like armholes
And every armhole has one.
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