Gone With the Wind

That old bedroom fan makes too much noise But he sweats after nights with the boys I turn and pull the sheets up Good Lord, on beans they did sup Thank goodness the fan his farts deploys Coming home late, he now hits the couch Spicy foods growl in his waistline pouch Old tabby hisses at him Rover’s expression’s quite grim If our pets die from foul wind, I’ll grouch “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” Said Rhett before he went on the lam My spouse won’t be hearing these The next time he cuts the cheese I’ll clog him with a battering ram *Written May 18, 2014