Kevin Bloody Wilson - The Festival of Farts lyrics

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Kevin Bloody Wilson - The Festival of Farts lyrics

Kevin Bloody Wilson Miscellaneous The Festival of Farts I come from an outback town where f**in nothin grows No wheat no sheep so we can't 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 can't 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 ba*tards, can you hear me at the back Now we'll give em all a go alright, and bu*t them cigarettes And any of you c*nts play up tonight, i'll bust ur f**in 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 cla** 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 f**in thunder from down under To open up the show Then a double burblin gurgler With a chilli afterburn Then a downdraft knacker clanger sh** that must have f**in 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 ba*tard 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 cla** 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 f**in beauty Like a shotgun goin off And fired a lethal load of gravel shrapnel Scared sh** 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 sh** and shot old f**in sarge arse over head Then with all of the confusion And no c*nt keepin score And old sarge f**in screamin They just pissed off out the door And even when the dust had settled No-one seemed to care that they'd f**ed 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