When Long Johns Get Religion

When long johns get religion And you’re fallin’ out the door— And bowels just move a smidgeon When they need to move much more— Then ol’ north winds come knockin’ And it’s then that you sure know— If relief don’t come callin’ That you’ll sure enough dern blow! Then your stomach do start rumblin’ Like it’s in some argument— And you know the storm’s comin’ And it won’t be heaven sent! That’s when you cinch your sphincter To repress that symphony— To kill or mute the coarseness While in polite company. But when that time is over And ol’ nature runs its course— You’d better blame your best pard Or meekly point at your horse! Yes, long johns hide revival When your bowels can take no more— But if you feel it comin’ Just undo that ol’ trapdoor!