More Tea Vicar?

The vicar came to tea last Saturday,
I didn't want to let the old bugger in.
Last time he was here, — last Tuesday,
He ate all the cakes and drank all my gin.

Again he helped himself to the booze,
And gorged himself on a huge treacle tart.
I turned away just for a second,
And heard this bloody loud fart.

I looked at Dibble, my Greyhound dog,
And told him to get out of the room.
He put his long tail between his legs,
Then there was another sub-sonic boom.

"Get out, get out!", I yelled at the mutt,
I had to get him quickly out of the place.
The vicar sat there looking very embarrassed,
With a vague sort of expression on his face.

Then the room started to vibrate and shake,
As that backside ejected lot's of more gas.
I looked at the vicar, then at Dibble,
I wanted to stick a cork right up his ass.

More were ripped off, and then a few more,
The living room was starting to hum.
The vicar looked at the dog; I looked at them both,
I thought there must be something wrong with his tum.

"Get out, get out", I again yelled at the hound,
"Get out now, and get into your bed"
"Get out now Dibble, and hurry up boy"
"Before the vicar shits all over your head"