I have a little secret to tell.
It has quite a pungent smell.
We’re working on a bookletry.
Filled with rhymes so chocolatey.
Contents thick with fecal swell.

We’ve been plotting this for some time.
Crappily conspiring it, but it’s no crime.
We want you to read it while on the John.
Laugh while you birth a brown son.
Inspire you to make fecal slime.

Keep a copy in the loo for friends and guests.
They can read it while making a brown mess.
You’ll wonder why they’re taking so long.
They’re compoosing their own fecal song.
We’ll read their pooems, I confess!

Our book of pooems will be all the rage.
Enjoy the doodoo ditties in a cubicle cage.
Though finding a pooblisher will be tricky.
If need be it’ll be homemade and sticky.
Handcrafted and tainted is every page.