The Word

In the beginning was The Word .
It was swept into the air by a humongous bird, who dropped it into a vat of curd,
But I didn't see that, I only heard.

Now the curd was stale, it ponged of merde, and it splashed upon a geeky nerd, who cried “Who flung this smelly turd?”

“I say,” said a vicar, “Who used The Word?” 
“Word?” said the nerd, “The word was turd”
Sacrebleu!” said a Frenchman, “Say not merde, it is not, how you say, a polite word”
“Fuck this,” said the nerd, “You give me the bird”
“What?” said the vicar,
“You heard” said the nerd.

At this point the police were heard, “Say the word,” said the sergeant to the nerd,
“And we'll arrest this bird”
“I'm a Kurd, not a bird” said the nerd, “Arrest me?  That's quite absurd!”

Then the nerd said The Word and ended up well and truly in the merde.

Dirty Protest

The site carries a health warning that the language used in some of the poems is sexual, anatomical or scatological in nature. The Word is a shit poem, or, to put it more politely, a rabelaisian poem which fully justifies the forewarning about scatologia.


Rude Rhymes


Max Scratchmann

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