Hello Dunny my old friend
I’ve come to sit with you again…
For some gas softly creeping,
Fluffed my doona while I was sleeping,
And the curry that was planted in my tum,
Disturbed me some….
…and brought me wind, of violence…
My wife jumped out I was alone.
My sore tummy made me groan.
By the light of a bedlamp,
I saw my Y-fronts were all warm and damp.
My eyes were crossed,
And my bottom was on fire,
My voice rose higher….
…as I broke wind, of violence….
Now running naked down the hall,
Intestines shout their distress call…
I must evacuate my bowel some more,
Tho’ my poor ringpiece is so red and sore!
And my wife yelled "If you’re still crook you just stay there!
“…and don’t you dare…
“break more wind, of violence…”
How long I’ll be I do not know.
This curry seems to go and go…
So I sit here with my ring on fire,
Fearing this may be my funeral pyre.
With teary eyes
And through clenched teeth I now rue,
…that brought me wind, of violence…
Sung to the tune of the old Simon and Garfunkel classic “Sound of Silence” – this is a song about a man and his curry…
Pure, silly fluff. (actually, ‘fluff’ is probably an apt description in this case…)