If little Billy Walters
Had a tale to tell,
It would be about his burping bottom,
And the everlasting smell.

When he's in the classroom,
All his classmates know,
Because Billy gets all fidgety,
Before he lets a ripper blow.

He's not ashamed to do it,
He says that it's an art,
He can't sing a note in key,
But he can do a tuneful fart.

He eats baked beans for breakfast,
For dinner and for tea,
He wakes me every morning,
And he lives three streets from me!

But I like Billy,
We're mates, him and me,
And if I'm ever picked on,
He'll make the bully want to flee.

He'll throw them to the ground,
To put them in their place,
Pin them down quite easily,
Part his cheeks and scorch their face.

If we're at the fairground,
Cinema or zoo,
Billy will let a silent one out,
It gets rid of the queue.

The fact that Billy has a friend,
Comes to some as a surprise,
But I haven't got a sense of smell,
Though he sometimes stings my eyes.

When we leave school,
Me and "Billy the Blow"
We'll be pest controllers,
And keep rodent levels low.

With his, not so silent nerve gas,
We'll be off to a good start,
We'll be millionaires in no time,
Because Billy can really fart!