MR UFFALUMP

There  was a man call uffalump 
Who couldn’t help himself but trump 
The smell kept all his friends away 
Made him sad 
When they ran away 
All he did was trump all day 
This smelly man called uffalump 

This man I call uffalump 
Made a stink by all accounts 
Some smelled like brussel sprouts 
so bad the smell could knock you out 
others smelled like rotting meat
while others smelled like smelly feet
this smelly man called uffalump

It depended on what he ate 
that decided his neighbours fate 
he tried not to stay up till late 
no point he couldn’t go on a date 
he had enough upon his plate 
what with the trumps deciding his fate 
this smelly man called uffalump

At night when he lay asleep 
The covers off his legs did creep 
The air he blew from his ass
Left his ass with a rasp 
Blew the covers of his ass 
No wonder he doesn’t have a lass 
This smelly man called uffalump 

  
These smelly trumps made him depressed 
Some days so sad
He  was so stressed 
couldn’t see the point of even getting dressed 
sat at home and just ate chilly 
sometimes when bored played with his willy 
this smelly man called uffalump 

one day a neighbour popped around 
saw a chilli pot in his hand 
said “do you eat that every day?
no wonder you fart in this extreme way 
try staying off it, just for one day 
and then maybe people will stay” 
she says to mr uffalump 

so he did as she asked 
something he felt quite a task 
he loved his chilli beans so much  
but  longed to feel a female touch 
but didn’t want anyone too butch
but still he longed to be touched 
this lonely man called uffalump

one day when he was home alone 
he saw a lady passing by 
and as she moved she made a sound 
that shook the ground to his delight 
he knew that this may be his night 
he knew it was love at first sight 
this happy man called uffalump

he stands up and lets one go 
she fires one back,  they go to a fro 
that’s when they both truly knew 
they were meant for each other 
farting all day not causing no bother

they lived together happily 
started a band apparently 
thinks it’s called dancing in your pants 
no longer do the neighbours rant 
they keep their trumps inside their pants 
Mr and Mrs uffalump 

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