I’ve neither inclination nor the time

To mask my thoughts in false propriety;

Nor fear my speech be judged a heinous crime

When placed at odds with your feigned decency.

You draw yourself up at the vaguest slight

Perceived by what you deem offends your ear

And round your eyes in counterfeited fright

When jesting jabs, your dignity besmears.

The world shows not you centered at the point

Where it revolves in timeless tenured turn,

Nor do its patrons wish to so anoint

Your ego—save with oils quite quick to burn.

Yea damn to Hell all varlets that you see—

Spare me the trial, I’ll throw away the key!