Pot Boiler

There once was a toiler
Who wrote a pot boiler
Though 'twas literature she had in mind.
Full of scandalous truth, the book was her ruth
Though truth was far from unkind.

The beasts and beauties,
The blinging tooty-fruities--
All benefited from her lavish prose.
But her readers cared not if they'd fare well or rot.
What became of them nobody knows.

So writer beware,
If you'd live without care
Stay away from books boiling over with truth.
Lies make you money, not sweet scenes and honey
About love for which you have no proof.

Love good folk well, and love them long,
But make them not part of your song.
But give life to the perverse, demented and crazy,
Those who hunger for things you won't name.
The scandalous truth, it is your ruth:
Far from the beautiful and true the world wants the ugly and lazy.