ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

Made to Sing

Updated on June 17, 2015

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


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.