Hello there little piece of meat,
In my fridge I did not eat.
What a thing you have become!
What strange juices from you now run!
And that smell. Could that be you?
Oh my gosh! It's worse than poo!
And what is that? Hair you've grown?
You need a brush and perhaps a comb!
Are you alive, oh putrid thing?
Can you talk? Can you sing?
The colors that you are, now are new for you.
Alot of green, some yellow and moldy blue.
And just to think two weeks ago,
I ate you with some cooked bread dough.
Oh little piece of rotting flesh,
I'd eat now if you were fresh.
I wonder what you will become.
In two weeks more will you be done?
Will you mature like fine French cheese?
Or will you spread some strange disease?
In my fridge, will you date
The eggs, the milk or perhaps the cake?
You are amazing little piece of meat.
But you I think, I will not eat.
I think that I will pull you out.
And throw you away without a doubt.

Hello little maggots in my doggy's poo
What exactly is it in there that you do?
You're living and you're thriving on my doggies waste
Wonder what it is exactly that you taste?
The taste to you must be good
Living there like maggots should
How is it though you stand the smell?
It is sickening, or can't you tell?
Is it warm inside your home?
Or is it cold, but you can't roam?
There it's moist and food is found.
So why crawl about on the ground?
All your needs are found therein.
A natural home from my best friend.
Squirming and munching in the sun.
There's plenty there for everyone!
You better hurry though, because soon.
Your home will dry up like a prune.
Turning a shade of greyish white
All of the moisture vanished from sight.
Before then, though, you'll grow wings
And buzz about and laugh and sing.
You will search with not far to roam
To find your children a brand new home.
A freshly manufactured double wide
Nice and fresh. Step inside!
A perfect place to lay your eggs,
To hatch and grow little wings and legs.
They'll eat their fill and that's for sure.
There's plenty here and my dog makes more.
But beware of when I mow the lawn,
Your little white bodies in half will be sawn.
And your poopy home, it will be splatterd
And across my yard you will be scattered.
But I can help with a better plan
I'll scoop you up and throw you in a can.

I wish I was not standing here on this bus,
Where the crowd is so thick and the people do fuss.
For in pain right now, I am, you see.
And all alone, I wish to be.
'Cause all of the pain is deep in my gut.
And the only relief is out of my ****.
Just a little relief , I hope to measure,
From a small release of some of this pressure,
No one should notice, there are so many here.
So I'll relax a little and open my rear.
Oops! Oh no! That's not just gas!
It's way thicker and sticks to my ***!
Uh oh! Wait a minute! This is not right!
I can't stop the flow! C'mon ****, get tight!
It doesn't matter how hard I try,
I can't seem to stop it! I don't know why!
Soon, surely, someone will notice a smell.
A funky odor that has come to dwell.
It's getting worse 'cause my underware's full!
And now down my legs, the stuff starts to roll.
A puddle now forms at my feet on the floor.
Oh my gosh! Where is the door?!
But it's too late and it really shows,
I'm having problems, so's everyones nose.
They all start gagging and yelling "P-U!!"
"Who is the idiot that passed that poo!!"
And just as the flow finally does stop,
Down the aisle comes an off duty cop.
"Hey!" He exclaimed. "What's wrong with you!?"
"You can't just stand there and take a poo!"
"I'm sorry sir!" I  tried to explain.
"I was having extreme abdominal pain!"
"I thought I could vent a little gas,"
"When out of my **** this liquid did pass!"
"I wanted to stop it!" I said as I cried.
"It just kept on comming, no matter how hard I tried!"
And as I stood weeping because of my shame,
All of the people, to my aid came.
They all gave me tissues and one guy a mop.
So I took them all and started to sop.
By the time I was home, I had cleaned it all up.
And,thankfully,did it without throwing up.
I thanked everyone and apologized.
And from then on I realized
That if you're on a bus and have to pass gas,
Make sure you have kleenex to cover your ***.

You're on your way to where the job is at.
Wearing boots, coveralls, goves and a hat.
It's **** that floats in an unergroung vat.
You dig that up, but that isn't that.

You remove the old lid and there you find.
A smell that drives you out of your mind.
Digested food of every kind.
The sight of which makes you wish you were blind.

The special function of your work truck,
Is to siphon up all of that muck.
You start up the pump, and with any luck.
The machine will then sloppily ****.

Slurping hungrily at the waste.
And hopefully doing it with all due haste.
Removing a greyish sort of paste.
Feces, that five years, has been encased .

Now with the job almost through.
You suction up the last of the poo.
Replacing the lid but as you do.
Some of the stuff splashes on you.

It gets all over your clothes and your hat.
And all over your face. What's up with that?
Now you are as filthy as an old, greasy rat.
That was chased into a sewer by an ill tempered cat.

So you wipe your face with a rag that you brought.
Just in case that you might get caught.
In the kind of mess that has just been wrought.
A precaution of which, you had thankfully thought.

As that nasty job is finally finished.
And your good cheer is also diminished.
You can take a shower and so be replenished.
To face another day that you will be punished.

Popping pimples 'cause they're there.
Popping pimples without a care.
Popping pimples is so much fun!
Popping pimples on everyone!
Popping pimples on your mate.
Popping pimples on your date.
Popping pimples on your dad.
Popping pimples that you had.
Popping pimples on your sister.
Popping pimples. That one missed her!
Flying ****, that's for me.
Little, yellow specks fly free!
Popping pimples everywhere!
Watch them sail through the air!
See you laugh, watch them run!
Ewww! There goes another one!

Pickled piglet in a jar
Oh what a mystery you are.
Preserved there in your piglet brine.
You could stay young there for all time.
With your little, wrinkled, piglet nose,
And your tiny, cloven, piglet toes.
A classroom project you'll someday be,
For a student of biology.
They'll take you out and start to cut,
And open up your piglet gut.
They'll peel away your piglet skin,
And expose everything therin.
They'll open your little piglet head,
Oh well, who cares, you're already dead.
They'll remove your little piglet brain,
Thank goodness you can feel no pain.
They'll remove your little piglet eyes,
And take those apart. C'mon guys!
They'll examine all your piglet parts,
Lungs, liver, stomach, little piglet heart.
And when, eventually, they're all through,
It's to the garbage can with you!

Hello ***** underware that I refused to change.
Sixteen days is just a bit beyond your wearing range.
Poor overworn underware, How crusty you are! Wow!
You've stiffened up overnight. I ought to wash you now.
You look like that, maybe, you have seen some better days.
There's a long , brown streak down your back and in front a yellow place.
There's a grey deposit, where my two boys were at.
And something else, I know not what, between the brown and that.
The aroma that exudes from you is quite beyond belief.
It smalls far worse than a fetid corps, and came from me? Good grief!
So come now overworn underware. Into the wash you'll go.
I've added extra bleach so the stuff on you won't grow.
In the soapy water, the crust will disappear.
And out you'll come, white like new, with nothing else to fear.