Unwritten Process
There is an unwritten process in the book of flatulence
For when it is passed
Firstly, if there is a dog in the room
Naturally, it was the dog who did that blast
Next in line are children
When an awful smell wafts by
Of course it's one of the little angels
Which they always and forever deny
Lastly it is the men
Who simply bear no shame
When in the company of women
Without question they are to blame
As for us delicate creatures called ladies
We would never blow a foul trumpet tune
If by the slightest chance it ever came to fruition
It would be the lovely aroma of sweet perfume
Copyright © Deb M | Year Posted 2024
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