[Dixielandjazz] The Farter From Sparta NOT DIXIELAND, OKOM?? MAYBE, R RATED

Stephen Barbone barbonestreet@earthlink.net
Sun, 30 Jun 2002 14:10:28 -0400

Try this on for humorous musical rhyme even though only one jazz

Steve Barbone

There was a young fellow from Sparta.
A really magnificent farter.
On the strength of one bean
He'd fart "God Save the Queen,"
Or Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

He could vary, with proper persuasion,
A fart to suit any occasion.
He could fart like a flute,
Like a lark, like a lute,
This highly fartistic Caucasian.

This sparkling young muso from Sparta,
Would fart for either money or barter.
He could roar from his rear
Any scene from Shakespeare,
Or Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado.

No one could play classics finer,
As he showed me one day in the diner.
I had a bagel with lox
While he played from buttocks:
Chopin's Etude #12 in C-minor.

He'd fart a gavotte for a starter,
Then fizzle a fine serenata.
He could play on his anus
The Coriolanus:
Oof, boom,er-tum,tootle, yum tah-dah!

He was great in the Christmas Cantata,
He could double-stop fart the Toccata,
He'd boom from his ass
Bach's B-Minor Mass,
And in counterpoint, La Traviata.

Spurred on by a very high wager
With an envious German named Baeger,
He'd proceeded to fart
The complete oboe part
Of a Haydn Octet in B-major.

His reportoire included trad jazz,
He achieved that effect with his gazz.
With a good dose of salts
He could whistle a waltz
Or swing it in razzamatazz.

His basso profundo with timbre so rare
He rendered often, with power to spare.
But his great work of art,
The fortissimo fart,
He saved for the Marche Militaire.

One day he was dared to perform
The William Tell Overture Storm,
But naught could dishearten
The spirited Spartan,
And his farts were in wonderful form.

It started in capital style,
And he farted throughout with a smile,
Then, feeling quite jolly,
He tried the finale,
Blowing double-stopped farts all the while.

The selection was tough, I admit,
But it did not dismay him one bit,
Then, with butt thrown aloft
He suddenly coughed...
And collapsed in a shower of shit.

His axe was blown back to Sparta,
Where they buried the rest of the farter,
With a gravestone of turds
Inscribed with the words:
"To the Fine Art of Farting, A Martyr."