We all have, to a lesser or greater degree, something we excell at. My wife seems to think my genius lies in the expulsion of noxious methane gas in syncopatic rythms. As she chased me around the room with bottle of Fabreeze in hand, I recalled a ditty from days past. I have been a long time fan of the limerick. Now although this is a long one, I promise you It is one of the finer examples of the artform and sums up my feelings perfectly. Off to play the tuba, squeeze a duck, whatever...
There was a young fellow from Sparta,
He could vary, with proper persuasion,
This sparkling young farter from Sparta,
He'd fart a gavotte for a starter,
He was great in the Christmas Cantata,
Spurred on by a very high wager
His repertoire ranged from classics to jazz,
Hi basso profundo with timbre so rare
One day he was dared to perform,
It went off in capital style,
The selection was tough, I admit.
His bunghole was blown back to Sparta,