I'm at a loss as to what to say
This poo is underwhelming 
And hasn't inspired a way
To wax on and take the day.

I had high hopes 
When sitting next to Hammond 
Of merrily penning tropes
Of the pooping of the Pope's.

For I was struck 
By the imaginings of a small boy
With nothing but luck
Falling into the Pope's muck.

Now before you go there 
I'm not alluding to wrongdoings 
Of holy men and where
Their genitalia lairs 

I'm simply saying 
That I have nothing very promising 
Or very swaying 
As to be entertaining.

And so I thought 
Of the pooping Pope 
Of kids in sewers wrought 
By the church's great hope

Of the holy stench of the man on high.

3 thoughts on “Poopopeafilia

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