Some guys have terminal armpits
Some folks have nuclear breath
But I bet I can name
‘Coz I farted a lion to death
He was lying on top of his shelter
At peace with the world and his wife
When a basso profundo explosion
Put an instant end to his life
He wrinkled his nose in displeasure
Then ruffled his mane in alarm
At the horrible realisation
He was suffering terminal harm
He twitched his tail in confusion
And collapsed in a heap on his side
And my children all reached the conclusion
That the king of the beasts had just died
I think he was probably sleeping
He certainly looked tired enough
But I’d like to believe I can floor a male lion
With the strength of one terminal guff
(for John Cooper Clark should he happen to be reading this)
Voices of dissent 
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