T.S. Eliot - The Triumph of Bullsh** lyrics

Ladies, on whom my attentions have waited If you consider my merits are small Etiolated, alembicated, Orotund, tasteless, fantastical, Monotonous, crotchety, constipated, Impotent galamatias Affected, possibly imitated, For Christ's sake stick it up your a**. Ladies, who find my intentions ridiculous Awkward, insipid and horribly gauche Pompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulous Dull as the heart of an unbaked brioche Floundering versicles feebly versiculous Often attenuate, frequently cra** Attempts at emotion that turn isiculous, For Christ's sake stick it up your a**. Ladies who think me unduly vociferous Amiable cabotin making a noise That people may cry out "this stuff is too stiff for us"- Ingenuous child with a box of new toys Toy lions carnivorous, cannon fumiferous Engines vaporous- all this will pa**; Quite innocent, -"he only wants to make shiver us." For Christ's sake stick it up your a**. And when thyself with silver foot shall pa** Among the theories scattered on the gra** Take up my good intentions with the rest And then for Christ's sake stick them up your a**.