The Queen of Poop
The Queen of Poop
Some call her the Queen of Poop
but this I can report
I have got the inside scoop
from someone on her court
News from in the castle states
a porcelain throne her seat
A pen, her tool when she creates
as others soon retreat
For often when she’s thinking and
the door is left ajar
The strangest kind of stinking can
be smelt so very far
Though no one there will mention,
for you know she is the Queen
No need to bring attention
if they keep the throne room clean
The grunting and the groaning
sometimes echoes down the hall
And often times it’s moaning
as a big one starts to fall
While some of them will smile
and at times might even blush
Each handmaid knows her style
every time they hear the flush
For then she gets to show’em
why so urgent was the need
By handing them a poem
that they cannot wait to read
And I am right there with them
for it falls into my plan
To read a poopy poem
from our favorite poet Jan
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2018
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