A Rather Smelly Sonnet
I once knew a fellow of popular fame,
Clarence Carruthers was the good man's name,
Intelligent, wealthy, a patron of arts
And producer, at times, of the smelliest farts.
Whether most virtuous or someone who'd sinned
It was best to be absent when Clarence broke wind, -
There was nothing quite like it in heaven or earth
Nor was it, dear jester, a subject of mirth..
Imagine the odour of old rotting fish
That one time had garnished a sumptuos dish
Or the reek of a sewer too foul for a rat,
When Clarence let rip it was far worse than that!
Be thankful, at least, the poor fellow has died.
(Though the stench in the graveyard canNOT be denied!)
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
Added by Poetry Lover
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