Kevin Bloody Wilson Festival of Farts song lyrics
Kevin Bloody Wilson Festival of Farts song lyrics
Kevin Bloody Wilson
Miscellaneous
The Festival of Farts
I come from an outback town where fuckin nothin grows
No wheat no sheep so we cant even host an annual show
But we got somethin special there that sets our town apart
Coz each year in a shed we hold the festival of farts
Theres displays and competitions
And entries from afar
And those that cant get into town just send in little jars
And old fat sarge the local cop with clipboard and a pen
Unscrews the lid and takes a whiff then scores em 1 to 10
He'll give you 2 points for Aroma
2 for the bouquet
2 for fermentation
And 2 more for decay
And two for presentation of the fancy little jars
And a medal for the best fart at the festival of farts
And you should see the mob this year
That cramed into the shed
Hear the big guns blazing
In the farting talent west
With old sarge on a megaphone as he reads the riot act
'' Now settle down you bastards, can you hear me at the back
Now we'll give em all a go alright, and butt them cigarettes
And any of you cunts play up tonight, i'll bust ur fuckin head''
And he unfolds his directors chair
And squats on his fat arse
To adjudicate the entries in the festival of farts
He'll give you 2 points for Aroma
2 for the bouquet
2 for fermentation
And 2 more for decay
And two for presentation, style and grace and class
And a medal for the best fart at the festival of farts
Then the crowd roars its approval
As the first bloke lets one go
Fuckin thunder from down under
To open up the show
Then a double burblin gurgler
With a chilli afterburn
Then a downdraft knacker clanger
Shit that must have fuckin hurt
And the silence single singer
That took us by surprise
And a notchous nostril burner
That brung tears to our eyes
And old sarge the cranky bastard
Sat there adding up the marks
As popular as embroids at the festival of farts
coz you'll get 2 points for Aroma
2 for the bouquet
2 for fermentation
And 2 more for decay
And two for presentation, style and grace and class
And a medal for the best fart at the festival of farts
But the highlight of the show this year
Was two kids with a goat
That they'd fed on rocks and rotten eggs
And dragged in on a rope
And as one young fella grabbed his horns to line old billy up
His mate just warned the ground the goats arse and feck kicked him in the guts
And that old goat fired a fuckin beauty
Like a shotgun goin off
And fired a lethal load of gravel shrapnel
Scared shit out of the mob
And as they all dived for cover and hit the deck in fear
Old sarge just kept on markin buck shot whizzin past his ears
He'd give em 2 points for Aroma
2 for the bouquet
2 for fermentation
And 2 more for decay
And all in all that bloated goat had probably scored a ten
Except his fartin shit and shot old fuckin sarge arse over head
Then with all of the confusion
And no cunt keepin score
And old sarge fuckin screamin
They just pissed off out the door
And even when the dust had settled
No-one seemed to care that they'd fucked off with the medal
Coz they'd won it fair and square
That goat got 2 points for Aroma
2 for the bouquet
2 for fermentation
And 2 more for decay
And three big cheers from all of us
For pay back on old sarge and a medal for the best fart at the festival of farts
That goat got 2 points for Aroma
2 for the bouquet
2 for fermentation
And 2 more for decay
And three big cheers from all of us
For pay wingin poor old sarge and a medal for the best fart at the festival of farts