What I do with my shit
Is my matter entirely
This last dump you good sir
Is not part of the family
Now don't give me that
I know my shit
I can smell one from a mile
I smile when I see it
But I'm old fashioned in this
And shit should look like it
This monster from hell
Gave the plumber a fit
I analyze feces carefully
Like Sherlock Holmes did
Magnifying glass on the worms
Underneath the commode lid
I will not be fooled
Mr. Poop is surely alive
If I don't stab it bloody now
It'll assemble its nursery hive
There'll be the usual mess
But I'm used to handling shit
Maybe another hour or so
You may want to sit
