now’s found out:
said bloke’s nowt but one silly old ass
And whoever’s reposte to his host be a “Blimey!”
be born ‘n’ bred Brit. Take a look: he’s a Limey.
Whose lips, if rubb'd shoulders with, flip you a “Crap!”
must be firmly persuaded to zip up their yap.
And whose routine rejoinder’s a snappy “Dagnabbit!”’s
a cad. (That poor lad must be cured of his habit.)
Whose sole observation, when stump'd, is “Egad!”
shall be mark'd out for fatwa. He’s earned our jihad.
And who, topping your zinger, “Fie! Fiddlesticks!” cries
must be blackball'd. (He’s never been one of the guys.)
Whose tat for your tit is “Good Golly, Miss Molly!”
rates pokes in his eyes. To do less were sheer folly.
Who, swallowing goldfish, declares “Hoochie-mamma!”
must forfeit his dinner – and spare us the drama.
From among whom soil'd nappies elicit an “Ick!”
as our nannies-elect we’re reluctant to pick.
And who, emptying slops, bleats a brash “Jordeloo!”
warrants quick castigation. (I would. So would you.)
Would that “Kusipää!”s (they’re Helsink’ese for ‘stinkers’)
should stick in their craws! (Aren't we all wishful thinkers?)
And who -- prim Pollyannas! -- purr “Lord love a duck!”
should be stifl'd – before those rude schmucks run amok.
Who delivers his “Merde!”s as rhetorical questions
should hush – or have you some more useful suggestions?
Who caps each exchange with a curt “Nenorocit!”*
needs choking – nor am I embarrassed to broach it
* Pronounced ‘ne no RO tjit’
Who too oft commits to the “Odsbod’kins!” curse
should, instead, utter “Drat!” (We have all heard far worse.)
And who’ll not put a sock in his “Poppycock!” talk
won’t be scrutinized walking the circumspect walk.
Who showboats his quiet, though quaint, “Quotha!” quip
now must cease and desist...and (Good Lord!) get a grip.
And who turns a blind eye – with a wry “Ruat caelum!” –
to immigrants’ plights cedes his rights of asylum.
Who stutters when spitting his twee little “Strewth!”
should be caned ‘cross the thigh – as was I in my youth.
And who mimics the pool boys with taunts of “Tu madre!”
must spend his off hours with a whole ‘nother cadre.
Who to not “Unberufen!” but “Up yours!” gives voice
shall be ask'd to recant. Give that yob Hobson’s choice.
And who blurts out a “Voertsak!” (he might be a Boer)
must admit that he’s now crossed the line. This means war!
Whose word when he’s wrung out’s a wan “Wellaway!”
should just go – though he may be encouraged to stay.
And whose “xpletives,” although deleted, are foul
will continue to make all well-spoken folks howl.
Those blokes -- there be sev’ral – who sum up with “Yoiks!”
are – please let me be clear -- but a couple o' “joiks.”
And who, lastly, expounds his alarm with a “Zounds!”
blurts his blasphemy barefaced. (Foul language abounds.)
And whoever’s reposte to his host be a “Blimey!”
be born ‘n’ bred Brit. Take a look: he’s a Limey.
Whose lips, if rubb'd shoulders with, flip you a “Crap!”
must be firmly persuaded to zip up their yap.
And whose routine rejoinder’s a snappy “Dagnabbit!”’s
a cad. (That poor lad must be cured of his habit.)
Whose sole observation, when stump'd, is “Egad!”
shall be mark'd out for fatwa. He’s earned our jihad.
And who, topping your zinger, “Fie! Fiddlesticks!” cries
must be blackball'd. (He’s never been one of the guys.)
Whose tat for your tit is “Good Golly, Miss Molly!”
rates pokes in his eyes. To do less were sheer folly.
Who, swallowing goldfish, declares “Hoochie-mamma!”
must forfeit his dinner – and spare us the drama.
From among whom soil'd nappies elicit an “Ick!”
as our nannies-elect we’re reluctant to pick.
And who, emptying slops, bleats a brash “Jordeloo!”
warrants quick castigation. (I would. So would you.)
Would that “Kusipää!”s (they’re Helsink’ese for ‘stinkers’)
should stick in their craws! (Aren't we all wishful thinkers?)
And who -- prim Pollyannas! -- purr “Lord love a duck!”
should be stifl'd – before those rude schmucks run amok.
Who delivers his “Merde!”s as rhetorical questions
should hush – or have you some more useful suggestions?
Who caps each exchange with a curt “Nenorocit!”*
needs choking – nor am I embarrassed to broach it
* Pronounced ‘ne no RO tjit’
Who too oft commits to the “Odsbod’kins!” curse
should, instead, utter “Drat!” (We have all heard far worse.)
And who’ll not put a sock in his “Poppycock!” talk
won’t be scrutinized walking the circumspect walk.
Who showboats his quiet, though quaint, “Quotha!” quip
now must cease and desist...and (Good Lord!) get a grip.
And who turns a blind eye – with a wry “Ruat caelum!” –
to immigrants’ plights cedes his rights of asylum.
Who stutters when spitting his twee little “Strewth!”
should be caned ‘cross the thigh – as was I in my youth.
And who mimics the pool boys with taunts of “Tu madre!”
must spend his off hours with a whole ‘nother cadre.
Who to not “Unberufen!” but “Up yours!” gives voice
shall be ask'd to recant. Give that yob Hobson’s choice.
And who blurts out a “Voertsak!” (he might be a Boer)
must admit that he’s now crossed the line. This means war!
Whose word when he’s wrung out’s a wan “Wellaway!”
should just go – though he may be encouraged to stay.
And whose “xpletives,” although deleted, are foul
will continue to make all well-spoken folks howl.
Those blokes -- there be sev’ral – who sum up with “Yoiks!”
are – please let me be clear -- but a couple o' “joiks.”
And who, lastly, expounds his alarm with a “Zounds!”
blurts his blasphemy barefaced. (Foul language abounds.)
