Today's poems [6.6.11]
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Part 9 of 12
One day he was dared to perform
The William Tell Overture Storm,
But naught could dishearten
Our spirited Spartan,
For his fart was in wonderful form.
Part 10 of 12
It went off in capital style,
And he farted it through with a smile,
Then, feeling quite jolly,
He tried the finale,
Blowing double-stopped farts all the while.
Part 11 of 12
The selection was tough, I admit,
But it did not dismay him one bit,
Then, with ass thrown aloft
He suddenly coughed...
And collapsed in a shower of shit.
Part 12 of 12
His bunghole was blown back to Sparta,
Where they buried the rest of our farter,
With a gravestone of turds
Inscribed with the words:
"To the Fine Art of Farting, A Martyr."
A crafty young bard named McMahon
Whose poetry never would scan,
Once said with a pause,
"It's prob'ly because
I am always attempting to insert as many extra
syllables into the ultimate line as I
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