Old Fart at Play

Pappy with the Khaki sweatband
Bowed goat potbellied barnyard
That only he noticed, the old fart was smart
The old gold cloth Madonna
Dancin' to the fiddle and saw
He ran down behind the knoll
And slipped on his wooden fishhead
The mouth worked and snapped
All the bees back to the bungalow
Momma was flattening lard
With her red enamel rollin' pin
When the fishhead broke the window
Rubber eye erect and precisely detailed
Airholes from which breath should come
Is now closely fit
With the chatter of the old fart inside
An assortment of observations took place
Momma licked her lips like a cat
Pecked the ground like a rooster
Pivoted like a duck
Her stockings down caught dust and doughballs
She cracked her mouth glaze
Caught one eyelash
Rubbed her hands on her gorgeous gingham
Her hands grasped sticky
Metal intricate latchwork
Open to the room, uh
Smell cold mixed with bologna
Rubber bands crumpled wax paper bonnets
Fat goose legs and special jellies
Ignited by the warmth of the room
The old fart smelled this
Through his important breather holes
Cleverly he dialed from within
From the outside we observed
That the nose of the wooden mask
Where the holes had just been a moment ago
Was now smooth amazingly blended
Camouflaged in
With the very intricate rainbow trout replica
The old fart inside was now breathin' freely
From his perfume bottle atomizer
Air bulb invention
His excited eyes from within
The dark interior glazed
Watered in appreciation of
His thoughtful preparation
Uh man, it's so heavy