Our stage was set at the far North end
Our backs against the trees
We started our performance
As pretty as you please
Two verses into "Rowdy Soul"
The King let out a wheeze
Jousters started going limp
The Fool went to his knees
(Chorus)
Privy Wind. Privy Wind
I thought that smell would never end
My poor nose I can't defend
From the evil air of Privy Wind
Just then we saw them in a line
Standing proud and plastic
Beckoning each patron tired
To drop a load fantastic
They'd not been cleaned since weekend last
And here it's Labor Day
The green cloud near obscured the sky
Even buzzards stayed away
Just then a bloke with a big cigar
Went reaching for the handle
With embers hot and methane gas
You could smell more than a scandal
The chain reaction blew the line
And now we're all the wiser
The memory garden planted there
It needs no fertilizer
For booking information contact Craig Lutke at: 214-415-9563 or by e-mail at