Oh, what did the great glass eye see
On its gastrointestinal journey?
A dollop of poo,
A polyp or two,
And some fifty-year-old kimchee.

There once was a young lad named Danny
Who was falsely accused by his Granny
Of stealing an eye,
But the eye, by and by,
Was lodged in poor Grandpa's tight fanny.

I dare say I was rather flustered.
After shamefully cutting the mustard,
To the toilet I booked,
And fearfully looked,
To find shorts that were full of brown custard.