When I'm tired of talk that is called double,
'Nother method comes to me--
Speaking words, I twist 'em: litotes.
Some say I'm dour and snarkness
Causes what they call effrontery.
Speaking words, I twist 'em: litotes.
Litotes, litotes, litotes, litotes.
Twistin' words to mix 'em, litotes.

After I'd spoken, started peepin'
Negatives of contraries.
That way I could answer obliquely.
Let's say someone has farted, air is
Still, no chance then for a breeze.
Air has made his pants stir visibly.
Visibly, mis'rably, hope for he not viscously.
So I'll take my chance, sir--litotes.

I don't cry "Oh, shite!" loudly
l approach his plight serpentinely.
Shite spawn's left his hollow--stench it be.
I say not, "That sound. . .it seems you sick."
Rather: "Smells not good to me."
Sneaky words on his bum. Litotes.
Litotes, shite o' cheese. Ignite no lighter, please!
Whipsawed words on his bum. Litotes.
Lightly tease: "Wifely squeeze, might be Bs, not huge, these.
There's ill-speak of mams, sir: light titties."