Sunday, June 08, 2008

Sometimes you have to flush more than once

Okay,I'm not one of those bloggers who likes to republish "best of" blog posts. After all, who am I to say any of the crap I write is the best of anything. But speaking of crap, while I was sifting through archives restoring photos, I ran across a little gem of a post that didn't get a single comment. It was called, A rose by any other name. It tells you just about everything you wanted to know about Thomas Crapper, the man credited for inventing the flush toilet. Turns out he didn't but he was pretty much the patron saint of plumbers.

Anyway, the post includes an original poem I wrote about Thomas Crapper. I think it is pretty good (if I do say so my egotistical self). So I am reprinting it here because I'm sure it is an oversight that no one appreciated it the first time.

ODE TO THOMAS CRAPPER

If I was Thomas Crapper, I'd probably come in a plain brown wrapper,
Because who would want to go through life, being referred to as a Crapper?
He didn't invent the toilet, after all,
But who'd want to be thought of every time nature calls?

Every king has his throne, and Thomas Crapper built his own,
It wasn't very plush, but you could count on it to flush.
He was a plumber to the crown, so why do people put him down?
If he didn't install the royal Loo, the palace would be in deep doo-doo.

If you give it a lot of thought,
at least Thomas decided to shit and get off the pot.
So here's to Thomas Crapper,
If he'd been born today, he' d be a Rapper.

This poem may make you yawn,
But what do you expect from verse that's about a John?

The End (get it?)
I'm just flushed with pride.

6 comments:

Danger Panda said...

You're a regular Dr. Suess, you are.

Tim ID said...

Kristy, I never thought I'd say this, but thank you. You broke the curse of the crapper poem and it's pitiful lack of comments. If no one commented, I would have had to keep posting it until someone did, no matter how long it took. Your astute appreciation for poetry and classical form have saved the blog world from that fate. You are a swell former English teacher.

And I mean that.

But I still don't like sock monkeys.

Danger Panda said...

Well, I think the feeling is mutual when it comes to sock monkeys.

But I'm glad to know that you thick I was a swell teacher...as long as that doesn't mean "swollen," on some subconscious level...

katcampbell said...

A crapper poem...interesting choice.

Gypsy said...

Well I have now commented on the original post so you don't feel bad. Now you can rest easy knowing that your poetic prowess has been duly recognised and may the Crapper poem also come to rest in the pages of this blog's history. Amen.

Tim ID said...

Kristy,
For a moment there I thought you had come around and given up on sock monkeys. Then I realized that you were saying the sock monkeys don't like me. I accept that.

"...you thick I was swell." hmmmm

Kat,
It may be a shitty poem, but it is written in the proper meter and verse. :)

Thank you Gypsy, You have made my day. I was feeling drained after writing the poem. But I imagine the poem would go down the loo in a different direction in Australia. :)