My uncle had an Angus bull
who liked to have his belly full.
Inside his gut there was a rumble
he was polite, we called him Humble.
One Sunday when I wore a tie
I slipped, fell into Humble's pie.
Not only Humble was surprised
he grimaced and apologised.
All brown and slippery was my shirt
thus fully covered with dessert.
You readers out there, full of wit
please tell, why don't they call it shit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
LOL! ! Need I say more......