Ruled by mighty king poot

                        The village made art

                        With their very musical farts

                        But little lad McSmelly

                       Could not make a fart even by       

                       Pushing his belly

                      So somebody went to tell

                     That McSmelly could not make smell

                    "They make no art there," said Lady

                     Stink

                    "They wash there clothes in a sink!"

                     He paked all day

                    And they sent on Land Clean's way

                   One he was clean toys

                   And out came the most wonderful noise!

                   He had finally made art

                  Stinking with his foul fart!