Ode to a Fart

This is an ode to the "sweetest" of deeds,

A bodily function so awesome, it needs

A tremendous tribute, which I will here impart:

That glorious, uproarious thing called a fart.

Too many times, I'd be sitting in class

When, wouldn't you know it, a big ball of gas

Would come rumbling out from the depths of my tummy.

All but the teacher would think it was funny.

The mind-blowing names for this feat, so diverse,

Nearly rob me of skill to do justice in verse:

Air biscuit, breezer, beef, and one-cheek-sneak;

Room-clearer, honker, trouser trumpet, and squeak;

Ass-rumbler, cheek-flapper, letting it rip;

Pant-ripper, poot, toot, butt mutt, and air tulip.

Heiny burp, back draft, and buttock bassoon;

Bottom blast, rip ass, and a little boom-boom;

Dutch oven, funky roller, and Smelly McSniffed;

Rumble-fluff, wet one, butt pancake, and 'pfffffft.'

And just when you thought all the names were too small:

'I stepped on a fart snake.'  It just says it all.

But the Grand Prize of Fart Names, it goes to my mom,

Who'd redden with shyness when she'd drop a bomb

Of wet stinky inky, and--no, I'm not goofing--

She'd blush, and then giggle and say, "Oops, I'm FLOOFING."

And thus, I say, no matter which way you spin it,

The world is the richer with flatulence in it.

So the next time you feel one a-brewin', take pride,

Stand with feet firmly planted, and cheeks open wide.