And then some nights you're just working late when the small cat who has until this point been resting quietly on your lap farts so disastrously that he flees the room to escape it, after which you cannot stop laughing even though you also have to flee the room because while the comparison is incredibly unfair to a sleek and affectionate cat who has never been the subject of a Shakespeare conspiracy in his life, all you can think is "My Lord, I had forgot the Fart."
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- 1: Well, you can't tell much from faces
- 2: Be my hand on the oar to row to eternity
- 3: Now I'm walking round the city just waiting to come to
- 4: You know this city like the back of your hand, but deep roots are holding me down
- 5: Here we are in the summer rain again
- 6: You're on, music master
- 7: To cormorant to samphire to plover
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