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THE WIND THAT WAILS ©

John McCormick
Orillia, Canada
2005

I wander slowly as a cloud,
Whenever I break free,
Someone will say,
"Now who was that?"
While all else say "Not Me!"

They do not call me Bill or Ben
Nor even Jim or Art.
Itís sometimes said
Iím "old" or "little",
But mostly
Just a fart.

Iím never left at "Home Alone",
My range is far and near.
I even daunt the Royal throne,
Iím potent after beer,
And garlic, and eggs.
With just a gentle sigh,
I can make you laugh quite heartily,
I can even make you cry.
ĎCause if you try to hold me back,
Upon the scene I'll burst,
Although I've often heard it said,
The quiet ones are worst.

"Thatís a good one!" the husband says,
As he rolls o'er in the bed.
No sound like that was ever heard,
Before the two were wed.

Now some will say "Thatís rotten!"
Iím sure you'll appreciate,
How really bad this makes me feel,
ĎCause Iím only what you ate.

As I relate this story,
You know it very well,
Although Iím bad in others,
From you there is no smell.
So release me rather gently,
At any time or place,
A smile, a look of innocence,
Will hide a guilty face.
All people that on earth do dwell,
Will know you did, because,
Youíre not the only one who farts,
Everybody does.


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