And Ode to Alfred Lord Tennyson
By Rob Corddry

So clearly doth the body know too well,
How time doth pass

Dearly do the humors tone the knell
Of life’s repast

Like solid breath we eat the earth’s moss and leaf
So that every heart this winter day still beat
Full merrily:

Yet, I sharted.

The body still will tease;
The humors still will ease;
The food will still be et;
The hearts will beat on, yet,
I sharted.
I sharted.

My pants were nearly ruined.
O, vanity!
Beware, a poop waits at the door
As do the knocking masses.
See! The other Wendy’s patrons forsake
The amount of time it takes to make
My underwear presentable.

Scrub fast, scrub slow,
Time, mine enemy.
Brown now is the stitch;
That covered my loins.
Gone now is the twitch
That did rejoin
The air and my Frescata sandwich
O, misery!

Hark! The day manager is calling!
While I speak to ye,
The jaw is falling,
The red cheek paling,
The strong limbs failing
Air with warm poop mixing
The eyeballs fixing
Nine times does the hand dryer dry
My underwear now.

So let the people stare,
And let the bathroom door beat its frame.
And let the knowing whisper my name;
For even and morn
Ye must never scorn
Thro’ eternity
Such a perplexing moment
As when your nether lips have parted.
For I sharted.

Ahhhhhh. One from the classics!

I only want for my hearth warm, cozy blanket, rocking chair,
and a nice, dry, pair of underwear!

LOL!

I can relate..............

Beautiful.

Simply beautiful.

Deep, very deep.