Constipation is nothing but awful hard labour.
Abhorrent to Newman, the evil, scheming neighbour.
It’s infuriating like Kenny Roger’s Chicken, a bright red glow.
Cos your pipes are jammed up but the poop just won’t flow.
You push and push, making all these elaborate plans.
Your pants down and you want to be my latex salesman.
This job at hand, you’re on it like stink on a monkey.
But your efforts fail to budge the flunky chunky.
What could have caused this blockage of fecal goop?
Could it have been the dreaded Nazi soup?
Yet your girlfriend’s toothbrush gets a go in the bowl.
“But not my shit!” you mutter with a scowl.
Meanwhile De Sota’s down but Cosmo’s got the caboose.
All over the road, poop is oozing free and lose.
Though it wasn’t always the case, if you’ll recall correctly.
A time when Kramer was backed up rectally.
Days had passed and he was as stiff as Frankenstein.
Assman got wet and wild and it came out in due time.
Back to the issue at hand, this blocked fecal matter.
If only calling “Tippy toe!” could make it all scatter.
You wish the chocolate sauce to ooze out at a nice stream.
Because yours is the dark master, the cocoa bean!
But that rich nectar must be allowed to flow.
If it helps, think of the runny syrup of chocolate Bosco!
After much heaving and shoving, the prognosis is still negative.
Like a Del Boca Vista president, you’ll need to get inventive.
What caused this? Finally it’s revealed in a flash.
The cause of the blockage, delaying the brown stash.
With a pinching gesture you go deep between the cheeks.
Hoping to find something that your fingers do seek.
Like the Hershey’s heiress, you won’t give up without a fight.
Something must be done to release the Hershey’s plight.
Located at last, and yanked out with some pain.
And held aloft, the cause of the fecal refrain.
It’s yellow but not corn, it is in fact pasta!
A corkscrew Jerry, the comedic master!