My father and I undertook several annual walks with friends. These were usually a week, sometimes longer and took in some of the great long distance footpaths England, Wales and Scotland has to offer. We saw some gorgeous parts of this green and often pleasant land and during those long hours many topics of conversation arose and led us on a merry old dance.
On one memorable occasion the subject of the advice dad and his friend Ernie had been given as young men came up, and what advice they wish they’d been given as youngsters. I listened with amused relish to these reminiscences. During one lull I asked dad, ‘what advice do you wish you’d impressed on me, looking back now?’
I should have known better. With barely a missed beat he said, ‘I wish I told you to speak when your spoken to and confess your farts.’
There you have it: a gobby lawyer full of the wrong sort of wind; he had me nailed, bang to rights. This, then, is for dad…
At heart
The fart
Might be very small
And well
The smell
Is nothing at all.
But parps
That start
On the tiny side
May grow
You know
And be difficult to hide.
The sound
Is bound
To make you pay.
Don’t think
It’s the stink
That’s the giveaway.
But be advised
A word to the wise
Be careful what you do;
Holding it in
Risks the ultimate sin
Of following through.
TanGental 
Excellent. My Dad would sniff and eye the nearest other individual. He also told a story of a teacher rushing into the classroom, flinging open all the windows, turning round, and asking: “Who’s the boy who’s been making smells?”
LikeLiked by 1 person
ah yes, get your blame in first. Very sound
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLike
Great advice and a funny poem. Lol. Thanks for the laugh!
LikeLiked by 1 person
any time Diane
LikeLiked by 1 person
Definitely great life advice . Wonderful poem.
LikeLiked by 1 person
thanks; in part inspired by your yoga!
LikeLike
I, of course, have no farts to confess to! But thanks for the word to the wise!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great poem and your Dad’s humour appeals, as does yours. 😉
LikeLike
Hilarious as usual, Geoff!
LikeLike
A little sexist, if not great fun. I have proof of the female pong. One of four sisters am I and have first handed memories of getting the stink eye from a Mother who passed the blame. It was discreet, a sniff, a one eyed stare, a flinging open of a window. You knew who ever was on the receiving end was the one who heard it slip.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was in an almost male house and no one would dare blame mum. So i didn’t know women who bloffed for many years
LikeLike
Bloffed! I love that take it as stolen from now. You know she did … even if it was lavender scented, it happened. 😂😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
It remains hard to believe!!
LikeLike
A good one for Dad. I’m sure he’d approve.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes I like to think so
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love this! You must have many fond memories of conversations with your dad, but this one is a corker!
LikeLiked by 2 people
There was always a lot of laughter even when we argued. Which was often
LikeLiked by 1 person