Farmer's Throne
Here's a little story
That most have never known
Our bathroom was an outhouse
Or called the farmer's throne
We had no indoor plumbing
No comode that we could flush
We'd go stomping across the yard
In such an awful rush
And sometimes when we'd get there
It would be occupied
So we would just quietly wait our turn
Even if it's cold ouside
God forbid you had diarrhea
Especially after dark
We had no light out there to see
But we tried to hit the mark
Sometimes we take for granted
The things that keep us clean
For the only TP we ever had
Was the pages from a magazine
And sometimes there's things out there
That could even make you shake
Like walking in on a possum
Or stepping on a rattlesnake
So when you're in your bathroom
On the toliet that you own
Have a little chuckle
About my farmer's throne
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