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Jun 2015
I remember once I farted, in a packed lift,
My two cheeks really parted, if you get my drift
I almost had a heart attack, the sound was so clear,
It was indeed a mighty crack, that everyone could hear.

Now everyone turned red, but I was really blessed
as nothing more was said, I presumed no one had guessed.
Some looked at their feet, others at the wall
But no pair of eyes did meet, no one looked at me at all.

But no one could deny there was an awful hum
And I had to wonder why I was cursed with such a ***.
Dear God, it was bad, worse than ever before
Was it the curry I had? I will not eat it any more.

On no! this can’t be happening, I felt my two cheeks part
This one much more sickening, what some would call a “shart”
Though I tried to look innocent, as detached as I could be
I knew what those looks meant and they were directed at me

We all held our breath, no one dared to breathe
We all faced certain death if the smell did not recede
We all wanted the top floor which was thirty stories high.
Would someone open the door or would we all be left to die

Thank God for ventilation, it really saved the day
For in case of flatulation it will take the smell away
Well I was so relieved, it was quite a close call
And I would not have believed what happened next at all

The lift it just stopped dead, a million to one chance
I thought I’d lose my head but instead I filled my pants.
I learned one thing that day, well at least it keeps me happy
I won’t get in a lift, No Way! without first putting on a *****.
Damian Murphy
Written by
Damian Murphy  Dublin, Ireland
(Dublin, Ireland)   
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