There's nothing funny about flatuence
My wife has it all the time
Course she always blames it on me
And I'll always say, yes dear, it's mine

The worst time, is on those cold nights
With the covers pulled over my head
The sweet aroma of, "What in the world was that?"
It drives me right out of my bed

Now I'm not saying that it's stinky
Okay, yes I am
I even got her beano for Christmas
Well, cause, I'm just that kind of man

Now see, everytime that it happens
Her and my dog, point at each other
Then the dog puts a pillow over his face
Til I think he will surely smother

(Whispers) Wait just a minute, my wife walked in
I can't let her see what I'm writing
Cause if she knows that I told you
Then the rest of the night we'll be fighting

Okay, she's gone, anyway she's stinky
Flatuence, has got to be a sin
For there's always something evil
That seeping out of her rear end

Now, I have literally tried everything
And I don't know what else to do
I love her, so I guess I'll accept it
While holding my nose and saying "Shoo"