Near a Banyan sits a tavern,
Where I'm slaked with rotgut wine.
Dealt a silent sulfur-miner,
Made 'em scatter and then whine:

Oh, who's farting?! Oh, who's farting?!
Oh, who's farting?! Clamp your rhin!
Smells like hoss dung mixed with methane,
Dreadful odor, clamp your rhin!

Lighted someone cigarette 'r'
A cigar; the flame did shine.
The blast rocked us and then knocked us
To the floor; someone repined:

Please stop farting! Please stop farting!
Please stop farting! Or we're dyin'.
That blast worse than one from propane.
Deathly odor, clamp your hind!

Floor's now buckling, 'cause the water
From firehoses isn't dryin'.
Timbers shiver into splinters
So there's something I'll be tryin'.

Started farting, started farting,
Started farting, but this time
I specifically set my aim
At the boards to get 'em dryin'.

Used it just like a flamethrower,
Gave the gas no time to climb
And permeate the enclosure.
Lit it at the source this time.

Flame is darting, flame is darting,
Flame is darting to the pine
Boards that once were logged with water,
See how quickly they are dryin'.

Gettin' drier, soon a fire
Has erupted in the pine
Boards, but firemen left with water,
So my own hose out I'm pryin.

Stream is arcing, stream is arcing,
Stream is arcing to the pine.
Once again, the boards get wetter,
I'm glad I'd drunk so much wine.

So the stream continues vaulting
And as I pee, I opine:
If I had been a teetot'ler
Then there would be no fire line.