Neville

These Words

These Words

I would never be contented

If these words were bound in leather

And only ever exercised

By potential debutantes

Both before and after saunas

In great halls of etiquette somewhere

Likewise

I could never be contented

If these words were never spoken

But only ever utilised

To prop open boudoir doors

Or to legitimise the whores

Beneath an ancient quilt somewhere