A Rather Smelly Sonnet Poem by John Thorkild Ellison

I once knew a fellow of popular fame,
Clarence Carruthers was the good man's name,
Intelligent, wealthy, a patron of arts
And producer, at times, of the smelliest farts.
Whether most virtuous or someone who'd sinned
It was best to be absent when Clarence broke wind, -
There was nothing quite like it in heaven or earth
Nor was it, dear jester, a subject of mirth..
Imagine the odour of old rotting fish
That one time had garnished a sumptuos dish
Or the reek of a sewer too foul for a rat,
When Clarence let rip it was far worse than that!
Be thankful, at least, the poor fellow has died.
(Though the stench in the graveyard canNOT be denied!)