Once when bent I needed to fart,

Nude from bathing it created art,

Art with a scent that was distinct,

Yes, ‘‘twas I that soundly stinked,

A fart when nude shouldn’t be,

Without undies things go free,

That poo is meant to be a stain,

For on the wall it shan’t remain,

A stain in undies belongs there,

Especially mixed with pubic hair,

Unseen and hidden from sight,

Too, scent is disguised at night,

Blankets for cover locks it in,

Perhaps unknown it has been,

Sleep will come without it there,

So much better if not in the air.

The end.