That
Porta-Potty’s naughty, only enter if you dare
Don’t hesitate or stand up straight you’ll get something in your
hair
Try not to sit, but hover it’ll save you in the end
And don’t look to the right, you’ll get a fright from a slurried
“special blend”
The
honey wagon’s coming and its not the one with bees
He’ll wear a mask but still will gasp and fall down to his knees
A funk-a-fied contraption built to suck out all the mess
It looks like a modern version of that creature from Loch Ness
That
Porta-Potty’s naughty, OH the stuff that you will find
A dirty rag, a Hendrick flag, DNA from Frankenstein
The New York Times, a book of rhymes, a can of Miller Lite
Dew worms from Maine, a scarf from Spain, plans from Frank Lloyd
Wright
Some
marmalade, a dozen eggs, a die-cast with one wheel
An eight dollar watch and some pants with no crotch from a stripper
named Lucille
There is a way to save the day and avoid the goo and gore
Take a walk to the high-buck lots and knock on a Prevost’s door
