Hello dunny my old friend...
I've come to sit with you again...
'Cause some gas softly creeping,
Fluffed my doona while I was sleeping,
And the curry that was planted in my tum
Disturbed me some...
And brought me wind of violence...
My wife jumped out I was alone...
My sore tummy made me groan...
By the light of a bedlamp,
I saw my y-fronts were all warm and damp.
My eyes were crossed, and my bottom was on fire
My voice rose higher..
As I broke wind of violence...
Running naked down the hall,
Intestines shout their distress call.
I must evacuate my bowels some more.
Tho' my poor ringpiece is so red and sore.
And my wife yelled "If you're still crook you just stay there...
"...and don't you dare...
"Break more wind of violence..."
How long I'll be I do not know,
This curry seems to flow and flow...
So I sit here with my ring on fire,
Fearing this may be my funeral pyre.
With teary eyes and through clenched teeth I now rue
The vindaloo
That brought me wind of violence...
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