A malfunction at the farting gnome factory

A malfunction
On the farting gnome
Production line.

From the onslaught.

How fervently
Do we toil
Churning our
Thousands of these
Plastic bastards.

In the west,
Discerning folk
Decorate their green
Luscious gardens
With our beautiful,
If flatulent,

An engineer
To get the production
If he fails,
He will have failed us all.

Farting gnome lined
Like a militaristic
Trumping of the colour.

A whistle!
The conveyor starts again.
A cheer goes up,
Machines grind.
We will have to work
Extra hard to make up time.

You should see
My tiny apartment,
I’ve got hundreds of them,
All different permutation
Of farting gnome.
They let go in unison,
A farting orchestra,
Whenever I walk in the door.

It’s why
My girlfriend left me
The moment she came home
For the first time.

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