•Here is Hamish's limerick, with line breaks added:

I sat next a duchess at tea
As emarrassing a time as could be
Her rumblings abdominal
Were simply phenominal
And everyone thought it was me

•Actually, Mrrzy, when I was a teenager, my brother told me that was the definition of "frump."

•Fortunato,
Here's more of the song you started:

It was flatulation, I know
And it should have ended right there with that "pop."
You were passing wind, just like all your kin,
And it could have gone on all day without stopping.
It was flatulation, I know,
I could hear you over the banjos and drums.
When I took your hand for the dance, I could sense it:
Flatulation from your bum.

Here's one I started to write a couple of years ago when my nephews were at that stage where everything scatalogical was hilarious to them.

I let a fart in San Francisco,
High on a hill above the Bay.
It cleared out several Cable Cars
And upscale singles' bars--
That gaseous fog sure fouled the air!
But, who cares?
You left me there in San Francisco,
A very blue and windy me!
If I come back to you, San Francisco,
There'll be a warrant our for me!