— David Eisbach
As a boy, I did the things boys do.
We’d line a ditch in winter’s chill
To see who could pee the farthest
Or draw yellow faces in the snow.
Every bodily function was fair game.
Like farts, real or the armpit kind,
Belches, honest or self-induced,
So long as they were loud or obscene.
Lugies formed by ear-shattering hacking
Were shot far beyond the sidewalk’s edge.
Back then, a rubber pile of barf
Was a great and riotous thing!
The nude swimming hole came with
Comments on everything exposed.
“If the water were any colder
You’d be forced to wear a dress!”
In the presence of a wayward fart,
“Your voice is changing,
But your breath still smells the same.”
Thus grew the boy in societal refinement.
Now when old men gather
And such a peeing contest choose.
They will be overly lucky
To miss their pointed shoes.