It came, it came!
And I couldn’t be more thrilled.
In shame so lame
I feared I wouldn’t be billed
The daily tax that I’ve come to expect
From which my guts and my bowels do so elect
To push through me and into the bowl below
Upon which I sit like a king, nay Duke
That precious excretion of poop, so
I must smile, be cheery, this late poop’s fluke,
Has me crying aloud, It Came, it came!
Ahh, now if only I had a flame.