LEWD SUBMITTER:
My gags, crammed with crapulous metaphors. . .
Getting tight and getting stewed.
Bibing cherry schnapps good,
My antiheroes should
Take big bites of abundant food.

PRUDE ARBITER:
Get sated on too much beer,
Perhaps eat up a whole deer
That drips unsvelte gravy.

LEWD SUBMITTER:
Dig into a quartered quail,
Wash it down with quarts of ale--
Too much bevy and then get sickly.

PRUDE ARBITER:
"Much bevy?"

LEWD SUBMITTER:
A bevy.

PRUDE ARBITER:
"What bevy?"

LEWD SUBMITTER:
Harp-brewed bevy.

PRUDE ARBITER:
Bevy from Guinness' brewery

LEWD SUBMITTER:
So I'll drink three beers and twelve beers more
To get ideas for crapulous metaphors.

PRUDE ARBITER:
He'll drink three beers and twelve beers more
To help fuel crapulous metaphors.

His tunes 'bout breasts and satiated balls
Have lewd and rude content.
Sex-secretion songs he'll write,
Get 'em up on amiright,
Sneak in terms like "con," in French.

More than one time he has rhymed
About women wined and dined
While bespermed by "congress" men.

Bad language he does use,
About genitals and booze. . .
Yet rarely tamed by Chucky G.
Though "bottoms up" he may
Say in a double way,
He never will best Johnny D.

LEWD SUBMITTER:
"What, never?"

PRUDE ARBITER
No, never

LEWD SUBMITTER:
"What, never?"

PRUDE ARBITER:
He's too clever
In entendre jocularly.

So he'll give three leers and one leer more
As he pens those randy, nasty metaphors.

LEWD SUBMITTER:
I'm out of beer--off to the store
For fuel for crapulous metaphors.