Oh how it would enable me
 To titillate my vanity
If you should choose to label me
 A Poet of Profanity!
For I've been known with vulgar slang
 To stoke the Sacred Fire,
And even used a word like 'hang',
 Suggesting ire.

Yea, I've been slyly told, although
 It savours of inanity,
In print the ladies often show
 A failing for profanity.
So to delight the dears I try,
 And often in the past
In fabricating sonnets I
 Have fulminated: 'Blast!'

I know I shock the sober folk
 Who doubt my lyric sanity,
And readers of my rhyme provoke
 By publishing profanity,
But oh a hale and hearty curse
 Is very dear to me,
And so I end this bit of verse
 With d-- and d-- and d--!