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T.S. ELIOT lyrics : "The Triumph of Bullshit"

Ladies, on whom my attentions have waited
If you consider my merits are small
Etiolated, alembicated,

Orotund, tasteless, fantastical,
Monotonous, crotchety, constipated,
Impotent galamatias

Affected, possibly imitated,
For Christ's sake stick it up your $$#.


Ladies, who find my intentions ridiculous
Awkward, insipid and horribly gauche
Pompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulous

Dull as the heart of an unbaked brioche
Floundering versicles feebly versiculous
Often attenuate, frequently crass

Attempts at emotion that turn isiculous,
For Christ's sake stick it up your $$#.


Ladies who think me unduly vociferous
Amiable cabotin making a noise
That people may cry out "this stuff is too stiff for us"-

Ingenuous child with a box of new toys
Toy lions carnivorous, cannon fumiferous
Engines vaporous- all this will pass;

Quite innocent, -"he only wants to make shiver us."
For Christ's sake stick it up your $$#.


And when thyself with silver foot shall pass
Among the theories scattered on the grass
Take up my good intentions with the rest

And then for Christ's sake stick them up your $$#.

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