An Ode to Poo

Although poo is just nature’s way,

A lesser part I wish it could play

In life at home with kids all day,

Where nothing keeps the stuff at bay.

 

In baby years poo made me wince,

Then nappies went, and ever since

I wonder why I made a fuss,

Such harmless, easy, fragrant stuff.

Now, I’m bent over toilet bowl,

Gassed by odour, fresh and foul.

 

A friendship’s really sealed for me,

When their child tells me it’s not just wee.

I feel quite stoic, really kind,

When wiping their child’s soiled behind.

I never thought I’d get to know,

The pong of other kids strain-and-go.

 

As for disasters, don’t get me started,

In pubs or parks or good friend’s parties.

We’ve all been there – the sudden runs,

The not-quite-made-the toilet ones,

Wondering where we can begin,

When poo presents from toe to chin.

 

And then there’s walking to our school,

Cursing dog-owners, thoughtless and cruel,

Leaving turds right in the path

For shoes and scooters to splat in half.

Really, people, don’t you know

How long it takes that pong to go?

How deeply poo gets in the sole,

And brings us mothers up to boil?

We’ve HAD ENOUGH thanks very much,

As if beating the bell weren’t hard enough.

 

Now that our kids are five and three,

It’s nearly time for some relief.

We’re fast approaching the longed-for point

When poo is personal, no longer joint.

Just one more year of wiping bums,

And then we’re into things like worms.

Perhaps by then I’ll get to crap

All on my own, door closed, no chat.

 

But now, of course, all smells are noticed,

Commented on in broadcast voices.

Is there no end to poo-filled days?

I fear not, I’m sad to say.

For don’t forget there’s teenage jokes,

And god knows what else they’ll think of, folks.

 

Yes, I fear that scats are here to stay,

Following me right through the day.

Best gird my loins and peg my nose,

And focus on some other woes.

Yes, I fear that scats are here to stay,

Oh happy, happy, happy days.

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