Made to Sing
The doctor slapped me on the ass,
I didn't cry but passed some gas.
So he slapped me on the head
and Mommy took me home to bed.
I never cried and never whined.
I passed my gas all the time.
Then Daddy took me to a school
For me to learn the golden rule.
The teacher said that I would pass
if I could learn to hold my gas.
I never whined and never cried
and learned to keep my gas inside.
Until one day in music class
a low note made me pass some gas.
The teacher said I was a fool
'cause I forgot the golden rule
She sent me to see Father Fessing.
He gave me grace and God's blessing.
For weeks I went to daily Mass
and prayed that God restrain my gas.
And then one day during Lent
I'm sad to say my gas I spent.
Father was not mad at all,
he said the chorus was my call.
He said that I was made to sing;
Comes out the wrong way is the thing.
He slapped my ass and said with glee,
“Give up your gas, and Do-Re-Mi!”
A bubble in my bowel popped,
Rose up my belly, didn't stop.
It made it's way up to my throat
And out my mouth a sweeter note.
The belch I passed became a song;
Yes I was singing before long.
I learned that I was made to sing,
And everywhere, my beans I bring.
© 2015 Doreen E Beck