Good old Aunt Cecelia
A lover of the arts,
She had a nice demeanour
But she did horrid eggy farts,
She suffered from her flatulence
At least umpteen times a day,
And if you stood too close to her
She’d take your breath away.
People opened all the windows
If she entered their rooms,
Some ended up on oxygen
From breathing up her fumes.
When she developed piles
The doctor had an awful task,
He bent down to examine her
And screamed for a gas mask.
This was many years ago
Aunt Cecelia is now gone,
She was only buried six feet deep
So there’s still a horrid pong.