I’m taking a bog, a horrendous log,

It’s stretching my taint and I think I will faint.

A huge eruption of poocanic ash, shooting out of my spluttering ass.

I better wipe this terrible shite, not to be confused with a plate of tripe.

Oh it stinks like toxic waste. I think I lost my sense of taste.

And the air is sweet and fragrant. I’ll flush now to make my payment.