If for long days on gaseous fare you've fed
And suddenly you're moved to use the head,
Tarry not! Nor linger on --
Lest your movement come upon you
And you find your drawers
To your utter horrors
Defiled with excrement.

On streaks of shit you'll sadly sit
'Til your knickers you may change.
An outcast, all alone, like a dog with grisly mange.

So if you've dined on greasy grub,
And wash'd it down with beer,
When abdominal rumbling you hear
Be off like a shot to the nearest pot.
Amble not, make haste, haul ass --
It may be more than gas you pass.

2.

In days of yore men of might surely were no quitters,
Amongst this august legion were some of history's finest shitters.
Daily they would stand up to boldly be counted
As the steps to their lordly crappers they resolutely mounted.
Furrowed brow and curled lip they with great determination
Bent themselves to the awesome task of heroic defecation.
Their haunches strained, their muscles knotted, their teeth they tightly gritted,
As above the hole of destiny, their bungholes proudly shitted.

Our legends have their root in fact
(Of this we may be certain)
Let us with reverent eyes peer past time's soiled, smelly curtain
To the days long past when the mighty toiled to drop a shit,
And remember that our heroes bold never stopped nor quit.