"NO SMOKING PLEASE"






 As I recall the days of yore, 

Is the Little House, 

behind the house

 with the crescent over the door. 

'Twas a place to sit & ponder,

 With your head bowed down low,

 Knowing that you wouldn't be there 

If you didn't have to go. 

Ours was a three-holer,

 With a size for everyone, 

You left there feeling better, 

After your usual job was done. 

 You had to make these frequent trips 

whether snow, rain sleet,

 or fog To the little house

 where you usually found 

the Sears Roebuck catalog.

 Oft times in dead of winter 

The seat was covered with snow,

 'Twas than with much reluctance, 

To the little house, you'd go. 

With a swish you'd clear and seat, 

Bend low with dreadful fear,

 You'd blink your eyes and grit your teeth,

 as you settles on your rear.


 

 I recall the day my granddad,

 Who stayed with us one summer,

 Made a trip to the shanty, 

Which proved to be a "Hummer." 

'Twas the same day that my Dad

 Finished painting the kitchen green 

He'd just cleaned up the mess 

he'd made with rags and gasoline.

 He tossed the rags in the shanty hole, 

And went on his usual way, 

Not knowing that by doing so, 

He would eventually ruin the day. 

 Now Granddad had an urgent call 

I never will forget  



This trip he made to the little house 

lingers in my memory yet.

 He sat down on the shanty seat

 with both feet on the floor 

 Then filled his pipe with tobacco 

and struck a match on the outhouse door.

 After the tobacco began to glow 

he slowly raised his rear

 Tossed the flaming match in the open hole,

 with no sign of fear. 

 The blast that followed,

 I am sure was heard for miles around  

And there was poor OLE' Granddad 

just sitting on the ground. 

The smoldering pipe was still in his mouth,

 His suspenders he held tight; 

The celebrated three-holer

 was blown clear out of sight.

 When we asked him what had happened

 His answer I'll never forget

 He thought it must be something 

That he had recently et. 

 Next day we had a new one

 which my Dad built with ease

 With a sign on the entrance door which read;

 "No Smoking Please"

 Now that's the end of the story

 With memories of long ago

 Of the little house,

 behind the house

 Where we went 'cause we had to go.