I’ve tarted for jokes, if audience wasn’t buying
my jests that were clean; I would use a blue stream—go low.
If that’s what they like, low I am willing to sink.
Don’t matter to me…all for hilarity.

I look in their eyes, adjust my fare for what they prize.
All the swell things I said just gave me dead air, so then I shed
innocuous punch lines and I started to do raunch bits.
There’s a change of scene; now with laughter they scream.

More raunch I then plied…went way over to the dark side.
Such unwell things I said, lots full of dread, but it gave me cred.
The more noxious the punch lines, the more the audience loved it.
But when I then demeaned them, they got pretty mean,
screamed, “Split scene, or we’ll split your bean!”