Redneck Outhouse Poetry
Bubba writes poetry about his cold outhouse




When the snow is on the outhouse,
And the frost is on the seat;
It’s then that nature’s duty calls
And you move with hurried feet!

You don’t have time to shovel,
So you waller through the snow;
And you don’t need a weatherman
To know it’s four below!

You make a quick deposit
And tear a page or two
Of last year’s mail house catalog –
Or even corn cobs will do!

Then to the house and fireside
You hurry without fail…
With frozen stuff hanging from your nose
And frostbite on your tail!



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21-Oct-2020