In his pants were brown stripes.
Cos he didn’t know how to wipe.

Lil Timmy had no other excuse.
For the stink of this rectal juice.

He was never shown how to go.
Or where the poop ought to flow.

After dumping a heavy load…
Either afar or in his abode.

He would stuff into his hole…
All the paper it could hold.

Cos Lil Timmy didn’t know any better.
So his pants just got wetter and wetter.