Depravity is my calling card,
it follows where ever I go
And though it makes the going hard,
I’m afraid it’s all I know
Once on my road to perdition
a sober friar I did meet
He offered this admonition,
a guilt trip at my feet
He said: “You should strive for virtue”,
with a cross-armed, scolding stance
I said: ” I do nothing that hurts you”,
as I looked at him askance
He said: “The wise man turns from folly
and wisdom does not eschew!”
So I countered with this volley,
“The same applies to you!”
He stuttered and he stammered,
not knowing what to say
He was weaving as if hammered
I thought maybe he’d go away
But a scold is proud and haughty,
immune to any rebuff
So I’ll go on being naughty
Thanks, I’ve heard enough