The Outhouse
by John Hill

When I was a young man, away back when
We had things that you don't know about...then.
An outhouse was something you couldn't do without
Each home had one near about.
This was a little wooden house down a path..out back.
The door was kept closed by a latch, held with a tack.
Here let say, if the door was closed
It was for how long, nobody knows.
This house was referred to as a two holer or one holer
Which meant that there were two or one hole cut in the seat
No place could be any hotter, or colder, and it wasn't too neat
When the snow was on the ground and frost on the seat
And in the night you heard the sound of hurried feet
Your thankful, it's not you that has to hurry
If so, down the path you go icy cold...vision blurry.
It doesn't take long (when turned to the North star)
To realize just where you are.
On the seat was a catalog with pages turned down
From this, you took a page with a frown
You took care of the paper work, then up, and on your way
It didn't take long to get back in bed, you hope to stay.
You really don't realize what an experience this can be,
Unless, you could have been there with me.
Well, I guess we had to have this, so that,
We can appreciate today, knowing where we use to sat.
(Copyright 1997)

Submitted by: JohnPaul johnpaul@snowcrest.net
Sun, 29 Mar 1998