This is in answer to a challenge about the blues. If you think of some more I would like to know.
ta da da dum.
You see she can't get her fartichord tuned.
ta da da dum.
About the time she got one down,
they go and turn it around.
ta da da dum
There is sneak attack fart,
planned by ole Bad Bart.
Starts out slow and it builds up with a lot of clout.
From a nint, nint to a complete blow out.
ta da da dum.
She thinks she has that one down,
the next one makes her frown.
It is the church mouse, know what I am saying?
The one someone lets while you are praying.
ta da da dum.
Once she was in a bathroom stall.
Lord a woman let out the mother of them all.
Blew the door right off the hinges,
made a smell that would give Bigfoot the cringes.
ta da da dum.
Seems like some got like machine guns,
with all that gas emitting from their buns.
Maybe they get together to do the national anthem.
Ripping them like frogs booting flies and that ain't no hymn.
ta da da dum.
Of course my baby say that a woman don't fart.
She poots while filling the shopping cart.
What do about the silent ones that aren't small.
The kind that takes the paint right off the wall.
ta da da dum.
Poetry by Judy T Lloyd
Read 825 times
Written on 2006-08-30 at 01:54
Tags Humor Odors
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Variations on The Fartichord.
My baby got the blues,ta da da dum.
You see she can't get her fartichord tuned.
ta da da dum.
About the time she got one down,
they go and turn it around.
ta da da dum
There is sneak attack fart,
planned by ole Bad Bart.
Starts out slow and it builds up with a lot of clout.
From a nint, nint to a complete blow out.
ta da da dum.
She thinks she has that one down,
the next one makes her frown.
It is the church mouse, know what I am saying?
The one someone lets while you are praying.
ta da da dum.
Once she was in a bathroom stall.
Lord a woman let out the mother of them all.
Blew the door right off the hinges,
made a smell that would give Bigfoot the cringes.
ta da da dum.
Seems like some got like machine guns,
with all that gas emitting from their buns.
Maybe they get together to do the national anthem.
Ripping them like frogs booting flies and that ain't no hymn.
ta da da dum.
Of course my baby say that a woman don't fart.
She poots while filling the shopping cart.
What do about the silent ones that aren't small.
The kind that takes the paint right off the wall.
ta da da dum.
Poetry by Judy T Lloyd
Read 825 times
Written on 2006-08-30 at 01:54
Tags Humor Odors
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
keith nunes |
