I shall not let the coarse, uncouth
Ideas of our age exist.
They won't get past me, so desist,
Toe the line or know my wrath.
No reader needs to be a sleuth,
To question, as he did in youth,
I'll filter all, you'll not resist
The arbiter.
I know it tempts you in your sloth
To write what I say's right. My tooth
Is sharp, I bite, so do not twist
Your words, but keep a little mist,
Don't probe, write only what will soothe
The arbiter.
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