You might get a sore tummy,
If you keep it inside,
You've just got to let it out,
It's not easy to hide,
I've no high smell threshold, but
Boy if I did,
I'd enjoy it no doubt and
Plaudits I'd give.

If I were a connoisseur,
But then again, no,
Or a man who rates flatulence
In a weird kind of show,
When your cloth you touch,
Turtle head poking through,
Your gift is your pong and
It smells like poo.

And you can tell everybody,
This is your pong,
It may be disgusting but
Now that it's done,
I hope you don't mind,
I hope you don't mind,
You might think its absurd,
But your volume and resonance
Are the best that I've heard.

My hat's of - the truth
Is that you are the boss,
Though some of your worst ones
Get me quite cross,
But with this one you're quite kind,
Its the perfect pong,
But I'd question its exclusive gaseousness,
'Cos it went on too long.

So excuse me for guessing,
But its hard not to do,
But please check out your bottom,
For sign of 'follow-through',
Anyway the thing is,
What I really mean,
After dropping one like that,
Do you require Vaseline?

And you can tell everybody,
This is your pong,
It may be disgusting but
Now that it's done,
I hope you don't mind,
I hope you don't mind,
You might think its absurd,
But your volume and resonance
Are the best that I've heard.

Your volume and resonance
Are the best that I've heard.