By
Bud Lemire
It's in my clothes, no matter what I do
She must bathe in it, from head to toe
Then she carries it, and makes the scent flow
I tell you, it comes with a taste too
Try eating food that tastes like perfume to you
Open the window, spread it around
That stinky perfume can always be found
When dabbing it on, don't you assume
That many won't smell, that stinky perfume
Too much perfume is as bad as a stinky underarm
I'm writing this poem, I'm pulling the alarm
I'm sure they'll keep wearing it, I'm sure it'll be strong
Stinky perfume should stay in the bottle, where it belongs
Try knocking some sense into someone who can't smell
When they bathe in perfume, and they can't tell
Smell the perfume, boy does it stink
It is so strong, it's making me blink
I wrote a poem about perfume before
Yet that stinky scent still comes under my door
Author Note:
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