Roland The Farter

Though the bogs of St Edmund
beyond the gaseous wastes
Lives a hero amongst men, one of expensive tastes
He dines solely on beans and rich salted prunes
He holds magic powers to which none are immune.

He's the King's secret weapon and his jester to boot
He has his own castle and vaults full of loot
The French make no plans to invade this fair isle
For fear they meet Roland they quake rank and file.

Roland the Farter, we're depending on you!
Roland the Farter: please don't follow through!

Brewed in his bowels is a stench none can stand
For 10,000 hectares, it kills beast and man
Chemical warrior, flatulist supreme
Dark-age Mass-destruction from the brown jet-stream.

Aiming his arse as their army draws near
He pumps out a strong one that's soft on the ear
But sounds are deceiving, they do not see their doom
As, one by one, they march into the plume.

"Unum saltum et siffletum et unum bumbulum"
(one jump, one whistle, and one fart)

Roland's the hero, always the one to win
So don't be afraid, it's better out than in
Don't worry 'bout the farting, be proud of your trumps
But don't strain too hard; Avoid pants full of lumps!