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And the queue to get in was a mile,
The farter ate leeks,
Lived on beans for two weeks,
Knowing his farts were on trial.
Till his arsehole made sounds like bassoons,
Serenades and cantatas,
And the theme from The Mouse on the Moon.
And brought the whole crowd to their knees,
Women fainted and screamed,
At The Dambusters theme,
And The Flight of the Bumblebee.
Did the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies,
His farts echoed and swelled,
(And so did the smell),
And his face went as red as a cherry.
He began the William Tell Overture,
They gasped as it started,
Cheered the farter from Sparta,
And soon they were screaming for more.
As he farted it through with a smile,
Then, feeling quite jolly,
He reached the Finale,
Blowing double-stopped farts all the while.
But it did not dismay him one bit,
Then, with arse thrown aloft.
He suddenly coughed . . .
And collapsed in a shower of shit.
Around it no fart could be passed,
His bowel filled with farts,
From his arse to his heart,
And inflated his belly with gas.
His expanding bowel overloaded,
The room filled with screams,
As gas-filled intestines,
Rose up to the ceiling and floated,
His innards were strung round the room,
The odour was ripe,
So the Count lit his pipe,
And the whole place went up with a BOOM!
Where they buried the rest of our farter,
With a gravestone of turds.
Inscribed with these words:
“To the Fine Art of Farting, A Martyr.”
MANY versions of this,
I believe the Ballad of Big Ass Lil and Yukon Pete is blamed as the origin.
I’ll take some of that!
And there was much rejoicing.
And then we fucked. We fucked for hours,
Uprooting trees, bushes, and flowers.
Frightening small children and woodland animals.
We fucked with power tools.
We fucked like Vikings, with horns on our head.
I’ll take some of that!
Melody (chorus only) – Mexican Hat Dance.
The chorus is sung, the limericks spoken. The object is to take turns telling limericks, with everyone singing the chorus between limericks. Whoever said the previous limerick usually yells out the personal insult in the chorus. (Limericks marked by “F.B.” are Flying Booger originals. The extensive collection of personal insults was contributed by ZiPpy, Pike’s Peak H4)
Aye, aye, aye, aye,
(insert personal insult): Your mother’s a whore on a troopship,
So sing me another verse that’s worse than the other verse,
And waltz me around by my willie.
Your mother and father were brothers.
Your brother fills empty cream donuts.
Your father eats your brother’s cream donuts.
Your sister eats bat shit off cave walls.
Your mother sucks farts from dead chickens.
Your mother and sister are brothers.
Your sister leaves slime trails like snails.
Your mother does squat thrusts on fireplugs.
Your brother eats grandfather’s donuts.
Your sister douches with Drano.
Your sister swims after troop ships.
(and catches them)
Your sister’s in love with a carrot.
Your sister goes down for a quarter.
Your sister sucks moose cum off pine cones.
Your father does eight-year old Brownies.
Your mom uses Frisbees for diaphragms.
Your sister got turned down by hashers.
Your mother eats shit and lives.
Your mother’s vibrator is made by John Deere.
Your mother uses hamsters for tampons.
Your sister rides bikes without seats.
Your mother’s so dry the crabs carry canteens.
Your mother goes down on Rush Limbaugh.
Rush Limbaugh goes down on your sister.
You must keep her in close quarantine,
Or she sneaks to the slums.
And promptly becomes.
Disorderly, drunk, and obscene.
Found her breasts working higher and higher,
A guest, with great feeling,
Exclaimed, “How appealing!
Do you mind if I piss in the fire?”
A boil as big as his thumb,
The doc said “Let’s lance it,”
The hasher said, “Eat shit,
Medice, cura te ipsum.”
(physician, heal thyself) – F.B.
Who went on a wild bacchanalia,
He buggered a frog,
Two mice, and a dog,
And a bishop in fullest regalia.
Who stuffed her friend’s cunt with banana,
Which she sucked bit by bit,
From her partner’s warm slit,
In the most approved lesbian manner.
Was swallowed by a crocodile,
Who digested his skin,
And most things within,
But choked on his membrum virile. – F.B.
Just stroking the butt of his madam,
He was quaking with mirth,
For on all of the earth,
There were only two balls, and he had ’em.
Who pissed in the Archbishop’s chalice,
It was not for the need,
She committed the deed,
But simple sectarian malice.
At seduction was one very cool cat,
He’d spread open their thighs,
With sweetly-voiced lies,
While whispering “Exitus acta probat.”
(the end justifies the means) – F.B.
Knew another young couple they played whist with,
They all managed when able,
To reach under the table,
And play with what the other ones pissed with.
Always showed her classes a good time,
Instead of multiplication,
She taught fornication,
And never got past sixty-nine.
Whose treatment of kids was quite smarmy,
He’d probe every hole,
Then swallow ’em whole,
Till his shit looked like children con carne.
Who was ravished one night by a eunuch,