Here’s a tune, Amiright – whoa oh, so true – get’s mo’ trollin’
Rears a swirl of a fart – whoa oh, so new – too tart, butt swollen
Hairs are strewn, bout to light – whoa oh, no loo
That’s my colon, blew the spark - doo doo, doo doo

Prayers I owe for my fart – whoa oh, so blue – whenever smell will pour
Stares are hurled, they’re so snide – whoa oh, know too – that I abhor
Swear I know that Descartes – whoa oh, or Hume
They never smelled or swore – doo doo, doo doo

I’m snarling, blaring again
I’ve been honking, P. U. said my wife

Whoa oh oh woe, slay me, I have a welt, it may be sore
I stress with in-laws, share a prune, spout my plight

Where Van Gogh for his art – whoa oh so crude – his left ear sliced with gore
Fears a hurl as I slide – whoa oh slow goo – that I deplore
There’s a flow in my fart – whoa oh, some poo
I press if I pause . . . .

Here’s a tune, Amiright
Croon of my plight
Swoon at the sight
Moon out of spite

Here’s a tune, Amiright.