What does he get by’t? Not a Fart.
The Soldier makes his Foes to run
With but the Farting of a Gun;
That’s if he make the Bullet whistle,
Else ’tis no better than a Fizzle:
And if withal the Winds do stir-up
Rain, ’tis but a Fart in Syrrup.
They are but Farts, the Words we say,
Words are but Wind, and so are they.
Applause is but a Fart, the crude