Oh 2017, you beautiful New Year
I sat already once and hoped you’d hear
The poo crying for help inside my butt
You tricked me though, with farts that cut
And made me leave unsatisfied and wanting
With thoughts of constipation, most haunting
But then you made it clear
That I would indeed, poo this year!
And so here I sit upon my throne
A Duke and poet, trying to hone
Both my skill with the word
And the passing of the turd.