night music

Farts, farts, I love farts

Farts are an art when I fart darts


I fart in bathrooms, beds, and ballrooms

I spray mini marts with my bowel fumes


Fired out wetly, silent but deadly

I’ve got a shopping cart of farts to make a fart dart medley


You might call me a fartist, an artist of farts

For I’ve got the largest harvest of darts


And if you’re alarmed by my scented stuff

I’ll just go easy with a gentle puff


But for my kindness you forget to thank me

Frankly making me rather cranky

I’ll just smile and restart, reaching into my cart

And fart out a fresh one hot and stanky


See, I’ve got a fart for every occasion

A fartistic, logistic, artistic creation


Smooth whistle for this, stink missile for that

And a slight liquid dribble at the tip of a hat


You may think of me gross, with my shit talking toast

But you see that this art makes me grin more than most


For when I feel a fart’s sweet release,

That hot stench makes my clench release

And from the start of that fart’s depart

My grumbling bum is then at peace


I once dated a man of the orderly species

Who abhorred the roar that preceded his feces


And when I went off on my fart darting spree

He scrunched up his lips and barked at me


“Your farting ways are horribly disorderly

Surely a lady should act more demurely!”


Of course he was right with his high class taste

A lady should not be such a disgrace


So to give him thanks with all of my heart

I reached into the cart for a nice fresh dart

And pulled out a fart that would’ve gone to waste

And blew him a kiss right into his face




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