Loving someone you can't have,
it really is a bummer.
If he don't want me I'll get someone else,
a sexy, long haired drummer.

I like the musical types,
they are all quite emotionally stable.
Guitarists, singers and didge players too,
I bet they're all quite able.

All I want is to be satisfied,
driven to a sexual peak.
A man can do it, I know he can,
a man who can make me squeak.

Can you guess?

Loud Ones, quiet ones, silent ones, frightened ones,
smelly ones, sticky ones, icky ones, tricky ones,
eggy ones, meaty ones, leaky ones, creaky ones.
Can you guess?




Ones that take you by surprise,
ones you planned for a laugh,
social disgraces,
mistakes made whilst tying your laces.
Can you guess?

Real humdingers,
Putrid,
muted,
reminders of last night's meal.

Gone off sprouts,
rotting flesh,
dead rats,
stinkbombs and blasts.
Can you guess?

Little pips,
long drawn out grumbles,
vibrating gunkles and ones that follow through.
Wet ones,
dry ones,
rumbles and crumbles,
we didn't make it to the loo!
Can you guess?

So what have I been describing?
These idiosyncratic habits?
Some would say 'how creative.'
Modernist bottom art.
Have you guessed?
You've got it, it's the good old fart!