Poetry you learned at school...never to forget

[grahamw48]

Don't know why...just popped back into my head.

.
There was a professional farter
who could flatulate ballads and airs
He could poop out the moonlight sonata
and accompany musical airs
One day he attempted an opera - It was hard but the fool wouldn't quit
With his head held aloft
He suddenly coughed
And collapsed in a big heap of s**t.

[stevie c]

[Arthur Little]

Couplet believed to be extracted from Irish Mythology:

'Tir Na N~Og' (Land of the Young, by Robin Flowers)

But listen ... listen ... listen ... and you shall hear afar
A low and lovely murmer - like the singing of a star;

My OWN variation:

But listen ... listen ... listen ... and you shall hear a fart
A low, yet noisy rumble - enough to make one start!

[Terpe]

Sorry Graham just couldn't help it. Your poem bought this to mind:-

The Farting Contest
by
Anon

I'll tell you a story that is sure to please,
Of a great farting contest at Burton-on-Tees
Where all the best bums paraded the field,
To compete in a contest for various shields.

Some tighten their bumcheeks and fart up the scale,
To compete for a cup and a gallon of ale.
While others whose rears are biggest and strongest,
Compete in the section for loudest and longest.

Now this years event had drawn quite a large crowd,
And the betting was even on Mrs. MacLeod.
For it had appeared in the evening edition,
That this lady's bum was in perfect condition.

Now, old Mrs. Jones had a perfect backside,
Half a forest of hairs with a wart on each side.
And she fancied her chances of winning with ease,
Having trained on a diet of cabbage and peas.

The Vicar arrived and ascended the stand,
And thus he addressed this remarkable band.
"The contest is on as is shown in the bills,
We've precluded the use of injections and pills."

Mrs. Bindle arrived amid roars of applause,
And promptly proceeded to pull off her drawers,
For though she'd no chance in the farting display,
She'd the prettiest bottom you'd see this day.

Now, young Mrs. Pothole was backed for a place,
Though she'd often been placed in the deepest disgrace
By dropping a fart that had beaten the organ,
And the poor Vicar, old Jonathon Morgan.

The ladies lined up at the signal to start,
And winning the toss, Mrs. Jones took first fart
The people around stood in silence and wonder,
While her wireless announced gale warnings and thunder.

Now, Mrs. MacLeod reckoned nothing of this,
She'd had some weak tea and was all wind and pride.
So she took up her place and her bum opened wide,
But unluckily s$$t... and was disqualified.

Then young Mrs. Pothole was called to the front,
And started by doing a wonderful stunt.
She took a deep breath and clenching her hands,
She blew the whole roof off the popular stands.

That left Mrs. Bindle, who shyly appeared,
And smiled at the clergy who lustily cheered.
And though it was reckoned her chances were small,
She let out a winner, outfarting them all.

With hands on her hips, she stood farting alone,
And the crowd stood amazed at the sweetness of tone.
And the clergy agreed without hindrance or pause,
And said, 'First, Mrs. Bindle... now pull up your drawers!'

But with muscles well tensed and legs full apart,
She started a final and glorious fart.
Beginning with 'Chopin' and ending with 'Wing'
She went right up the scale to 'God Save the King'.

She went to the rostrum with maidenly gait,
And took from the panel, a set of gold plate.
Then she turned to the Vicar with sweetness sublime
And smilingly said, 'Come up and see me some time!'

[Dedworth]

The boy stood on the burning deck
Playing a game of cricket,
The ball flew down his trouser leg
And hit his middle wicket.

[grahamw48]

Hahaha....those blew me out of the water.

[grahamw48]

.

[stevewool]

The boy stood on the burning deck
Playing a game of cricket,
The ball flew down his trouser leg
And hit his middle wicket.

not heard that since being at school

[stevewool]

i wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on vales and hills,when all at once i saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils

[stevewool]

wooden it , wooden it, wooden it be funny if a lady had a wooden it, wooden it be funny

[les_taxi]

I remember something like this
There was a young man from Mcleen
Who invented the wanking machine
At the 99th stroke
The bloody thing broke
And whipped his balls into cream

[lastlid]

not heard that since being at school

The boy stood on the burning deck
Eating a fourpenny Walls,
A piece of ice slid down his trousers
And paralised his balls.

[lastlid]

The boy stood on the burning deck,
His legs were all a' quiver,
He gave a cough,
His leg fell off,
And floated down the river.

[Iani]

All I can say is, if this is what you were taught at school, then you certainly had some strange English Lit teachers.

We did stuff like Rime of the Ancient Mariner - a very weird piece, but explained maybe when you're taught the author was on substances!

[lastlid]

'Twas a terrible night in the desert,
We were putting the camels to bed,
One sat there with its legs crossed,
Scratching the back of its head.

[lastlid]

[lastlid]