Excuse me bitch, would you mind not farting?
It smells so rank, I think you are sharting.
This train carriage is too small for us both.
I’m certain you’re making a brown growth.
These windows don’t open, I’m trapped with your stink.
I’d throw up already, if only there were a sink.
Though I will say, you must have balls of steel.
To drop a load while the train spins its wheels.
If only I had the confidence like you.
Nowhere would be safe from my poo.
So if this is true, and you’re doing a poo.
How will you wipe, so far from the loo?