How Odd Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

The two were really no match,
she called him names like Duh and Snitch,
he answered her, you silly snatch
and mother is a crazy witch.
Their conversations, filled with stunts
ad hominem attacks galore
both were, what you could call the runts
the children of a common oar.
Wood is the origin of man
the carver chops off little bits,
but all behaviour in the can
must be restricted, so no Brits,
they are their best when milk is used
and sweetness from the honeypot,
rough treatment gets you mad and bruised
inject it like a polio shot!
Well I can see that I digress,
all nudity as made by God,
leaves man to value woman's dress
which, like this poem, may be odd