Grimbeau

Another bitty night, the wind’s to blame,

the Ham, the game, the Cheese, they all took part,

but did not do what you did, Maria…

You sly one, you twisted, silent, deadly sister

Due to your emission,  I will suffer

endless tumult and derision and you will

live to lie in pastures new as if butter did not melt

Guts are a bit choppy, the wind’s to blame

I explain to the assembled throng who

Conclude it was me, not you who caused the pong

Now, simpled, feeling a complicit tool

You play it Cool, queen the art of cool,

woman’s grudge is women’s definition,

Powder your nose, pass the ammunition.