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