I once did meet a lady fair,
With twinkle bright and wild-eyed stare,
She bowed to me, then just like that,
She farted gaily in my hat.
The tavern roared, the fiddles played,
A legend in that hall was made,
No crown of gold, no feathered plume—
But thunder sealed my cap of doom.
And though my pride was blown apart,
She won the night with fearless art;
Not queen, nor saint, nor diplomat—
She’s the woman who farted in my hat.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 5:35 AM UTC
I once did meet a lady fair,
With twinkle bright and wild-eyed stare,
She bowed to me, then just like that,
She farted gaily in my hat.
The tavern roared, the fiddles played,
A legend in that hall was made,
No crown of gold, no feathered plume—
But thunder sealed my cap of doom.
And though my pride was blown apart,
She won the night with fearless art;
Not queen, nor saint, nor diplomat—
She’s the woman who farted in my hat.
