A Wind is Blowing

We all have wind from time to time

It’s a natural part of living

It only becomes a problem

When the smell is unforgiving

Tussock is the older dog

And her body is loosening off

As she climbs upon the sofa

Her bottom gently coughs

I rarely hear Talulah parp

Unless they are always silent

But I’ll never know for sure

Because they’re certainly never violent

Skara does some pips and pops

But nothing too alarming

They are quite like the rest of her:

Sweet and cute and charming

River has been known to cause

Some night time entertainment

I only wish I had a box

For gaseous containment

I woke last night to noxious fumes

Arising from her bum

A slow and thick and heavy gas;

Which left my senses numb

But Sisko was the King of Farts

Nobody would deny

His emissions after a knuckle bone

Would bring tears into your eyes

Nobody ever told him

That a bone was just to gnaw

His mission was to eat the lot

Leaving little for the craws

He would come in looking chuffed to bits

At conquering such a feast

Then settle down to have a sleep …

…whilst brewing his inner beast

And just in time for guests arriving

He’d suddenly wake up again

And dash out through the open door

Like a supersonic train

At the point the guests walk through the door

You understand his hurry

The gasses milling round your feet 

Are reminiscent of slurry

They grab the bottom of your legs

And climb up on your clothes

Heading to their destination:

The innards of your nose

They hang on to your nostril hairs

Bringing tears into your eyes

And through the haze of evil gas

You suddenly realise

The guests think you’re the author of

This fetid smelling fog

And all that you can think to say -

“It was the bloody dog.”