Way In A Crowd.

Once on a Lord Mayor's Day, in Cheapside, when
Skulls could not well pass through that scum of men,
For quick despatch Skulls made no longer stay
Than but to breathe, and everyone gave way;
For, as he breathed, the people swore from thence
A fart flew out, or a sir-reverence.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

The Captiv'd Bee; Or, The Little Filcher

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To His Friend To Avoid Contention Of Words.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Rod.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Temptation.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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On A Fart - Let In The House Of Commons

Reader, I was born, and cried;
I crack'd, I smelt, and so I died.
Like Julius Caesar's was my death,
Who in the senate lost his breath.
Much alike entomb'd does lie
The noble Romulus and I:
And when I died, like Flora fair,
I left the commonwealth my heir.

Matthew Prior

To Fortune.

Tumble me down, and I will sit
Upon my ruins, smiling yet;
Tear me to tatters, yet I'll be
Patient in my necessity.
Laugh at my scraps of clothes, and shun
Me, as a fear'd infection;
Yet, scare-crow-like, I'll walk as one
Neglecting thy derision.

Robert Herrick

The Quintell.

Up with the quintell, that the rout,
May fart for joy, as well as shout:
Either's welcome, stink or civit,
If we take it, as they give it.

Robert Herrick

Upon Lusk.

In Den'shire Kersey Lusk, when he was dead,
Would shrouded be and therewith buried.
When his assigns asked him the reason why,
He said, because he got his wealth thereby.

Robert Herrick

Upon Craw.

Craw cracks in sirrop; and does stinking say,
Who can hold that, my friends, that will away?

Robert Herrick

Upon Lulls.

Lulls swears he is all heart; but you'll suppose
By his proboscis that he is all nose.

Robert Herrick