When on peanuts I’ve snacked indigestion’s attacked and I’ve gusted,
Oh, the pain that has wracked my poor innards, gas-packed, ’til I gusted!
Folks’ve said I lack tact, but relief’s what I’ve lacked
’til with muscles unslacked my intestinal tract
has like gunfire ack-acked and with fetid impact, I have gusted.

Tho’ know they’ll “reprise,” I still eat goober peas and I’ve gusted
at socials and teas, then said “Pardon me, please, for I’ve gusted.”
But with nostrils a-squeeze, making comments like these --
“Alright, who cut the cheese?” “Crack the window, and please,
let us let out a breeze!” -- people nastily tease when I’ve gusted.

I’ve cleared many a room when a loud bowel boom says I’ve gusted
and a putrid perfume has eyes brimming with rheum ’cause I’ve gusted.
Still I’ll always consume that Fabaceaeous legume
tho’ it’s spelt social doom: when I’m near folks presume
there’s a flatus a-loom and they flee with a vroom! e’re I’ve gusted.

Whew, what a smell!
Well, what the hell?
I say “Farewell!”
(fading)