Stinky, rind-flocked, icky rind-flocked—
Fressing casein is vile.
In the air
There’s a reeking from this mass.
Ill-wind gassing
Like that passing
Past the pinching of piles
And the sphincter to slink from the rear.

Stilton smells, Stilton smells—
It’s thickly rimed; it ain’ pretty.
Really stinks. . .nostril kinks.
Gouda would be rich bouquet.

Stinking cheese blight—
Eating this might
Cause some craws to careen;
Even a Whopper’d be chomping pleasure.

Hear your gut crunch
Ere you thrust lunch—
It’s ghastly bluish-green.
As you’re launching your upchuck,
You’ll sneer:

“Stilton smells, Stilton smells
It’s sickness time; it ain’ pretty!”
Really stinks; in it sinks:
Ooze spritzes Mick’s slick beret.