When a man is feeling gaseous
And people want to pass us,
It cuts me to the heart.
'Cause I know they wouldn't mind me
If they weren't stuck behind me
And I didn't have to fart.

I could wile away the hours
With beans and cauliflower
The tender inner part,
If that relative of cabbage
Didn't bear such awful baggage
And it didn't make me fart.

Oh, happy me, for broccoli,
I'd eat it by the pound.
I'd get up from table gloatin'
When it didn't start me bloatin'
And walk off without a sound.

I could match and striker pair up
Without the fear of flare up -
Perfect the griller's art.
And I wouldn't have to bury
Yet another pet canary
If I didn't have to fart.