I'd rather, Father, have the author, further speak to plot things farther.
I'd hence begin to quench the when, the stench of lending meanings thin.
I'd then have salve to palm the half, to sand the man down to a task.
I'd revel in the shrivelled dell of shelling him, for quelling well.
And if the whiff of shuffling off caused stifling of the lesser clause
I'd execute the transigent and end that flexing malcontent.
I'd rather, hence, than revel off
I'll bother when the clothes come off
Short Answer: Skiptracemuse