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

 

© shelfspaceweb.wordpress.com

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