Whoops

WHOOPS

Uh oh, I think it's almost here,

That little feeling we all fear.

You're in a crowd, there's no escape,

Oh why did you eat that baked beans crepe?

Your stomach tenses, you're starting to blush,

The heat hits your face in a massive red rush.

You feel that people will know that it's you,

You're just hoping you don't follow through.

You try to smile, to hide your fear,

Your fake grin goes from ear to ear.

You're hiding your pain from all the masses,

But will they be safe from your toxic gases?

Now it starts trying to squeeze its way out,

"JUST STAY IN!" you're aching to shout.

But you can't yell that, because if you do,

All the fingers will be pointing at you.

Steam comes out your ears, you're fit to burst,

Your butt trumpet tunes up for Beethoven's first.

You think that if your control should fail,

You might hit five on the Richter scale.

You glance round the room, there's fear in your eyes,

You're worried you might end these people's lives.

Then from the back of the room comes a cry of, "Oh no!

Look out! That kid! HE'S GUNNA BLOW!"

And so you decide there's nowhere to hide,

No hole in the ground, no magic slide.

You relax your muscles and just let it go,

Your whole body shakes from your head to your toe.

A ripping fart noise splits the air,

The breeze from it parts a small girl's hair.

POW! The smell hits 'em right in the nose,

It doesn't just linger either, it grows.

People fall on the ground, some knocked out cold,

You blame the dog but they're not sold.

They know it was you who caused this great stink,

Curses, they're not as dumb as you'd think.

You turn to leave, when you feel a cool breeze,

And now your butt cheeks are starting to freeze.

You didn't just kill a number of ants,

That mighty fart ripped a hole in your pants!

KRUEGER WALLACE PRESS ABN 31 260 817 318 Phone : 0432 720 450

6/155 Lower Heidelberg Rd Ivanhoe East Vic 3079 Australia