The Bathroom Door



Once upon a Wednesday morning, while I had been recently snoring,
Awaking to smell and taste of my morning coffee pour—
I had a rumble in my tummy, the morning routine has sent my running
Through the living room, through the bedroom, and through the bathroom door.

While I sat, quietly crapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my bathroom door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my bathroom door—
Only this and nothing more.”


I tried in vain to block out the sound; but the noise was all around,
“Hey!” said I, “Daddy’s busy! Get away from here, I implore.”
But now the door handle was turning and thusly I began to worry.
Another jiggle, another slam which swung open the bathroom door,
Pants ’round ankles in my lavaratory, there I was in all my glory. —
Pointed my son, “Dee-ba-bore!”


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