Sitting in my easy chair
Times crossword in my hand,
Sunday afternoons are best
They really are quite grand.
So I sit and contemplate
Then my bowels begin to dance.
It really ruins my thought process
But I give my arse a chance,
A chance to really demonstrate
That his attention is quite just.
In fact I have to move real fast
His presence is a must.
The toilet seat it is so cold
A shock unto my cheeks
But what the hell the sparrows fly
And make my knees go weak.
Oh goodness me my arse has spoke
He has put out his full platter
Proved to me beyond all doubt
That crosswords do not matter,
For enjoyment comes in simple tasks
And by a rule of thumb
You cannot beat that feeling from
The pleasure of your bum.
But I make a wish right now
As I stare out through the vapour,
I see the empty toilet roll
And wish I'd brought my paper.