The preacher was inspired and determined
His sermon was powerful and long
A parishioner was also determined
To wish for the end and be gone
His bowels tortured his composure
The gas having all but escaped
He prayed for the end of the speaking
So he could leave with the utmost of haste
But fate was not be fortunate
When the preacher soon took a long pause
The man reached the end of his containment
The blast was shocking to all
Like a foghorn on a foggy night
A deep tone; echoing from the walls
Fading into a low rumble
One small blast; a peep; and that was all
One woman up front soon fainted
Another almost had a stroke
One man even started laughing
But was soon silenced by his wife’s stern poke
The preacher resumed his sermon
But it was soon determined by all
An odor was filling the chamber
Only missed by those that were tall
The preacher realized his powerful words
Could never overpower the evil aroma
He ended his sermon without a prayer
Wishing he’d never left Oklahoma
So the lesson learned on that day
And should always be passed on to friends
Is that boiled eggs and pickled okra
Create farts more evil than sin.
We had boiled cabbage, candied carrots, green beans and Brussels sprouts for supper. Don't be telling ME about boiled eggs and okra.
ReplyDeleteTalk about tooting your own horn....
DeleteThat was incredible.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much. I suggest people keep a copy for when they're bored in church....pass it around and try to keep from disturbing the service.
DeleteHilarious!
ReplyDeleteThank you. The poem became a compulsion when I was mowing the yard...no I have no idea why mowing does that to me.
DeleteI understood this quite well.. Me being the little sister to two older brothers seems like any and everything brought this on with them...
ReplyDelete