Take “swift,” a word that means fast and lean.
Where does this word come from? Here’s what I’ve seen
in paper books and on the computer screen:
it’s related to a word that is obscene. . .
getting down. . .
merkin’d mound.

Before I get to the dirty talk,
I take you to days of yore:
Anglo-Saxon was on the march;
it’s what was taught in school.

The lingo they spoke, a form of English,
that form of English, preceded by “Old.”
Getting back to “swift,” which also means “fleet”:
from Old English “swifan,” which also gives us “swive,”

involving use of body parts
making the users hotter—
I think you know which body parts.
So let’s check a rule.

Those versed in dictionary arts
say we’re not likely to see
or hear this word because it’s tem-
porally not much more in use.

One large lexical tome has this to say:
the reason we don’t see it much today:
it’s obsolete, nearly gone away,
and doesn’t play a significant part
in discourse regarding pimps and tarts—
thus set apart.

It is a word you won’t find in White and Strunk’s
stylistic laws.

Ancient word gone way of “th’art”—
that is what the wordsmiths impart.
I like how it got its start:
between now and old runes.

So, here’s my plan:
if it fits scansion
and I can use it for a rhyme
with say, “strive,” then I shan’t shun
a line with “swive,”
although it’s deemed ancient jive.
For the mot juste effect, I’ll hark back to an older time.