I love words,so I crochet them into rhymes and rhythm;sometimes I add a little blues I speak the songs as poems I make but here he strides from side to side.Is that a "Bop"? Can't be my mother said,"Leave the gutter in the street and don't bring it inside" but here he strides from side to side defiling words I won't describe . Defiler, Defiler that's all that you do leaving a stench that belongs only to you. Teaching the children in all of us each day "Oh, I'm from the street",Mr Profanity, you say! You're from the gutter on Curb Street! Your mouth gathers phrases that stink and carode out. Your words smell of urine and old discarded things. Your sentences like sulphur are rank and dank. You stink Mr Profanity! Your paragraphs need to be exorcised Cause they hauk in my granma's face Go slither, Mr. Profanity - down into your hole! Street life is not your life You're a gutter speaking mole. I don't see how others let you constantly hauk right in their face but you get by with the popular lie "I'm from the street" Oh no! Gutter Freak! Busy "Boppin' in yesteryear and lying in our face Busy stealing every mamas-Grace Your mouth is a deficating hole Go slither back! You're a gutter speaking mole.