Again I mount the porcelain throne
and dream of a turd I can call my own
On pins and needles, I anticipate the birth
One of great length and massive girth
Perhaps long and coiled like a slinky
Or bejeweled with corn and oh so stinky
I would settle soft, light and fluffy
I could give it a name -- maybe Princess, or Muffy
Alas, but again: a putrid fecal mess
I curse you! I damn you! My nemesis, IBS.