Passing Gas 101 Poem by George Hunter

Beer, beer, musical fruit,
It makes your pants go toodley toot.
No, No!
I've got that awfully wrong
That's a very different song.
It's really those old Boston Beans
That are meant to soil your jeans.
They're God's invention that is meant
To make you very flat-u-lent.
To fart or not to fart, that's the question
That must be left to your discretion.
In polite company, to keep from sin,
It's better just to say break wind
Instead of seeming oh so crass
And saying something too low class.
Some folks say it's just the deal
To show that you've enjoyed your meal.
But here, there isn't any doubt,
It's better just to ease one out
Silently, so none will know
It's you that's putting on the show.
And, if perchance, they smell the fog,
You can always blame the dog!