Grog Bog

Here I sit doing my duty,
This grog bog is my sworn doodie.

The night before was a real bender,
My deposit looks like it came from a blender.

I’ll catalogue the ingredients of woe,
Brown matter makes up the foul dough.

Regarding liquids there was plenty of beer,
The stinky proof is below, far too near.

Then I had a butt load of whiskey,
Counting this poo list is getting risky.

Shots of Jäger thrown into the mix,
Now my poo looks like soggy Wheet-Bix.

I smoked a huge doobie, got high as a duck,
The stench tells me I’m running out of luck.

Then with the munchies, I ate all I could find,
I overdid myself and now am in a brown bind.

Donuts, cereal, a whole pineapple and yes, corn!
A dump of pure evil has now been born!

I could go on but I’m being overwhelmed by the fumes,
Soon I must send this shite to a watery tomb.

I feel like I’ve been bogging for hours, time has vanished,
No end in sight, the torrent of brown hasn’t yet finished.

Am I doomed to poop here forever?
Or just wait for this dangler to sever?

I think how this started, I am ever vigilant,
Even though my dumping duty is infinite.

My doodoo-drill sergeant would be most proud,
He’d shout “Boy! Look how much you’ve ploughed!”

I raise a salute to brave men and grog bogs of our time,
Why’d I stand? Dribbling down my leg, a brown slime!

Pure Pooetry

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