Others loop the loop,
I like to roam the streets,
With my pooper scoop.
Dog dirt on the grass,
In the road or on the street,
I like to get out and scoop the poop,
Before it gets on people's feet.
What do I do with all that poop?
Why, I keep it for myself,
I leave it out to dry overnight,
Then pop it on a shelf.
I know not what to do,
For my bottom keeps erupting,
As I'm sitting on the loo.
Smells escape my bottom bubbles,
With such amazing power,
I glance at the watch upon my arm,
I've been here for half an hour!
Deep down I know before I look,
That the pan will all be stained,
I pray to any god that hears me,
That I do not block the drain.
My mum will go quite mental,
And refuse to call a plumber,
She'll send me back to unblock the bog,
With just an old sink plunger.
Oh bottom won't you hear me?
Oh bottom I implore,
Cease these wild eruptions,
End and do no more!
Oh come on now please oh bottom,
Get on with it and finish up,
For football is on the telly,
And I'm missing the F.A. Cup!
Queen Victoria used to let off some right rasping farts at the dinner table. I bet her guests were not amused!