|
As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man who farts in fives. Every fart had five more fumes, every fume had five more squeaks,
Every squeak begat five new farts. Then, oh man, all over, he starts!
Oh, land 'o mercy, sakes alive! How many farts were wafting to St. Ives???
Squeezed out by Gladys Flatus on 06/11/2000
Diagnosis is Miscellaneous
Postcards are coming soon.
|