The New Victorians
These days, just as we’re losing our prude
For fruity language that once gave the vapours,
Just shrugging-off cusses as barely that rude,
When reading them often in novels and papers –
Slowly reducing the shock of the swear –
We’re far too open-minded to care.
We’re liberated and in the nude,
Released from po-faced capers.
But then, out of the void, we heard
How modern ears are being rocked
At a brand new crop of age-old words –
That blanche the permanently-shocked.
We need to learn to take offence, or
We’ll upset the lib’ral censor,
Who demands our tongues are slurred
To keep our language locked.
The new lords of the orthodox
Are getting too big for their britches –
No longer just a chatterbox,
They’ve now become a gang of snitches.
Scanning all communications,
Seeking phantom motivations –
Boldly stating roosters can’t be cocks,
And canines can’t be bitches.
Rhyming Couplets 