Ode To The Privy Poem by John Bliven Morin
Ode To The Privy
Rating: ★4.5
The outhouse, the backhouse, the privy, the john,
Whatever you call it, we all sat upon;
With spiders above and flies down below,
That's where you went when you had to go;
Rain, snow or night, it mattered no bit,
You had no choice when you had to s-t!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
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4/26/2024 4:15:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
