Naughty mirth

I'm learning to swear and to curse
And to make my poems sound worse and worse
But when I shouted, oh f**k
It was just my bad luck...
I was standing right next to a hearse.

So then I thought, oh what the hell,
My mind's as unsound as a bell
I cried,what a b*gger
And scared off a mugger.
So here I am all alone in a dell.

Is there a future for the pure on the earth
For those who don't swear and don't curse?
Cor blimey,you're quaint
Is you a saint?
I almost feel we could write naughty mirth