Alone in the woods I feel the urge.
It’s time to give my bowels a purge.
This environment is not to my liking.
Animal noises cause a fecal striking.
So I become one with mother nature.
Farm some logs from my brown baker.
But the going is slow, the mud is thick.
I push harder, "AHHH! That’s the trick!"
Now I’m heaving like a wild caboose.
And I ooze out the lumpy brown juice.
Finally done, I wipe nature’s crevasse.
I use a thorny vine to floss my ass.