CPR - Cupcakke

Hark! Speak not in whispers dark and strange, Of matters foul and twisted in their range. Thine words doth tell of deeds most vile and low, Wherein no honor dwells, but only woe.

Aye, name thou a thing, 'tis freakish, I see, And knowest thou well, I'm 'bout such mystery. But ere thou speak of that which turns thy wit, Prithee, hold thy tongue 'fore it's too late to quit.

For lo, 'tis not the time for bawdy jest, Nor to recount such deeds that leave us stressed. To speak of such, 'tis not a merry wit, But rather brings a stain upon our wit.

Let not thy tongue wag on of such base lore, But seek instead to speak of things far more. Yet if thou must persist in thy crude vein, Know that I shan't partake in such disdain.

For when I'm not in company, foul and fit, 'Tis only then that I attend to shit. And if thou dost find hairs where they don't belong, Best seek remedy, lest discomfort prolong.

So if thou must indulge in base desires, Use thy words with care, like noble squires. But speak not of such deeds with glee or grin, Lest virtue flee, and leave us steeped in sin.