If I were Miss Manners,
I’d yammer in the morning,
I’d yammer to my readers
All over this land.
I’d yammer on the danger
And yammer out a warning
’bout having sex love between
A brother and a sister—
Such love must be banned.

And then I would yell
That drinking in the morning
Is something to be leaving,
No matter what brand.
I’d bring out danger
Of big A.M. pouring.
I’d bring out that drunk-
eness this early is sinister—
Such glugs should be banned.

I’d point out: it’s wrong
To stink up without warning,
To stink up before leaving
A space that is cramped,
Like an elevator,
To make air currents storming
That stink can be funk from beans,
Whatever, it’s sinister—
Wait till folks decamp.

I’ve got bad manners,
And I’ve got that smell;
I got that pong that stinks
From out of the can.

No, Miss Manners I’m not, sis,
And I’m swelled up—feel it.
Put my schlong that’s out snug between
The love berms of my sister—
Proscriptions be damned!