And as she sat, a voice below Struck terror, fright and fear, "Will you please use the other hole, We're painting under here! Ours was a three-holer, With a size for every one. He thought it must be something That he had recently et! You had to make these frequent trips Whether snow, rain, sleet, or fog— To the little house where you usually Found the Sears-Roebuck catalog. A speaking system he'd devised To make the thing complete, He tied a speaker on the wall Beneath the toilet seat. Of course we all desired to know What made the gals all do The things they did, and then we found The whittling owner knew.
He sat down on the shanty seat, With both feet on the floor. Next day we had a new one Which my Dad built with ease. With a sign on the entrance door Which read: Then filled his pipe with tobacco And struck a match on the outhouse door. The smoldering pipe was still in his mouth, His suspenders he held tight; The celebrated three-holer Was blown clear out of sight. Ours was a three-holer, With a size for every one. Oft times in dead of winter, The seat was covered with snow. If you don't know what a Outhouse is - ask someone a little older The service station trade was slow The owner sat around, With sharpened knife and cedar stick Piled shavings on the ground. Of course we all desired to know What made the gals all do The things they did, and then we found The whittling owner knew. You had to make these frequent trips Whether snow, rain, sleet, or fog— To the little house where you usually Found the Sears-Roebuck catalog. Tossed the flaming match in the open hole, With not a sign of fear. Ode to the Outhouse — Author Unknown One of my bygone recollections, As I recall the days of yore Is the little house, behind the house, With the crescent over the door. You left there feeling better, After your usual job was done. She missed the foot log - jumped the stream The owner gave a shout, As her silk stockings, down at her knees Caught on a sassafras sprout. She tripped and fell - got up, and then In obvious disgust, Ran to the car, stepped on the gas, And faded in the dust. A speaking system he'd devised To make the thing complete, He tied a speaker on the wall Beneath the toilet seat. Some just toliet talk and others pros. And as she sat, a voice below Struck terror, fright and fear, "Will you please use the other hole, We're painting under here! After the Tobacco began to glow, He slowly raised his rear: I recall the day Granddad, Who stayed with us one summer, Made a trip to the shanty Which proved to be a hummer. He tossed the rags in the shanty hole And went on his usual way Not knowing that by doing so He would eventually rue the day. No modern facilities had they, The log across the rill Led to a shack, marked His and Hers That sat against the hill. He'd wait until the gals got set And then the devilish tike, Would stop his whittling long enough, To speak into the mike. With startled look and beet red face She bounded through the door, And headed quickly for the car Just like three gals before. He thought it must be something That he had recently et! With quickened step she entered there But only stayed a minute, Until she screamed, just like a snake Or spider might be in it. This trip he made to the little house Lingers in my memory yet.
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