Prompt 2: a "dirty" poem.
It was a dirty business.
They had to get real down and dirty.
I can give you all the dirt on it.
Of course it was all about filthy lucre.
Really he was just a piece of filth –
and he had the filthiest temper.
He got away with it, being so filthy rich,
dirty little bastard.
Yes, I was dirty on him.
I could have dished a lot of dirt
but why get my hands dirty?
Throw mud, it can stick to you too.
So here’s mud in yer eye,
and let’s not muddy the waters.
Just a mud puddle really.
Or do I mean a stinking cesspool?
It certainly stank
with the stench of corruption,
and yet no-one seemed to smell a rat.
Well, it’s a dirty game.
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8.4.09
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