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| A wet nurse there was who would coddle An infant named Mort with a bottle. The milk she put in it Was riddled with gin, it Made the poor baby spasmottal. The burps that this toddler released Made dead people doubly deceased. He got a subpoena For Breathus Obscena, A crime, hitherto, unpoliced. Said the nurse to the broken down Judge, Relinquish my boy, you curmudge… …On bail or you’ll smell An emission from hell Surpassing his bilious sludge. In a flash that old bat got undressed And bent 'til the floor hit her breast. Then, the uppity wench Enfarted the bench-- The gas in her can was high test. The Judge at his bench grew quite pale While the jury proceeded to bail. Mort wickedly laughed At her derriere's draft As his nurse blew a flame from her tail. The Judge put the Nurse in suspense For her rather ungirlish offense-- He ruled that the art Of igniting a fart Should separate ladies from gents. When the case came again to the court, His Honor asked Mort to retort. The bold little twerp Let out such a burp That matters at court were abort/ Dear readers, the moral is clear. (Though it seemed to sneak up from the rear) A gastrical medley Can be something deadly— But if you stifle it, you will explode. |
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