To me there's magic in the word,
Be it scats, poo, crap or turd.
Droppings, excrement, its bit,
No 1, business, excretia, shit.
Many friends and most relations,
Say I have anal fixations.
For as sure a my name's Harry.
At every turd I'll stop and tarry
Many a turd I've pulled apart,
To fathom the turder's eating art.
Bones. fur, feather have had a massage,
Passing through the intestinal passage.
Scats, crap, turd all send me hopping,
Faeces, poo, doings, any dropping.
I've been known to cause a riot
When I declare what's in the diet.
It might seem strange but I admit,
I do enjoy a darn good shit.
Oh! No, No, not with me the doer,
But with some animal the pooer.
The wombat is a tidy beast,
When comes the time to pass a feast,
Some rock or stick he does find,
O'er which to elevate his behind.
I'm sure he thinks, ''That's been fun,''
Stands back and views what he's done.
Then says, ''Only I can do
A wombat turd, a wombat poo.\"
A fox is broad in eating habit,
If it moves, he'll pounce and grab it.
Grasshopper, beetle, rat or berry,
Lizard. rabbit, crayfish, wild cherry.
A bush rat can be main course,
Decomposed lizard a delicate sauce,
Dead bird. beetle, fifty hoppers,
Frog, blowfly, all passed his choppers.
Can you tell a wallaby from 'roo?
There's marked difference in their poo.
I'm sure it gives both satisfaction,
but wallaby depends on liquefaction.
The roo does mini-bun after mini-bun,
The wallaby is denied such fun.
The roo he does proper scats,
The wallaby is nearer S-s-platz!.
The rabbit, pellets drops at will,
But oft upon a small dung hill.
(Now there's a word I have ommitted,
Dung is what the rabbit shitted.)
It's like currants, freshly done,
Lightens to sultanas in the sun.
With a handful you could make
With flour and water, a Johnnie cake.
Handed possum turd to a mate,
He asked, Seed of a date?
No, I said, Black jelly bean.
He pulled the worst face I have seen.
The emu is a hungry critter,
And what's more no fancy shitter.
When his food he needs to pass,
There's an explosion in his arse.
He'll discharge with all his might,
what's more “ it's at some height.
Fairly rockets to the ground,
How I'd love to hear that sound.
An emu turd is round and flat,
Big enough to be a hat.
When upon the ground it hits,
You would say He's got the shits
What he's eaten you would know,
As the ingredients clearly show.
Italians, they all get crooked,
If I say it's a pizza, overcooked.
Do I have a favourite? Yes, I do.
It's warrigal, dingo, wild dog poo.
I admit I admire that chap,
There's such diversity in his crap.
I have seen what dogs can do,
Doggy droppings, doggy poo.
Some of it is glistening white,
Like a beacon in the night.
Once upon the Grey Mare track,
A turd I saw, it took me back.
A wild dog had defecated there,
But where's the bones, the fur, the hair?
Upon echidna he had dined,
Anteater, porcupine, I don't mind.
And that dog to get his fill,
Had eaten even bloomin' quill.
That dog turd it fairly bristled,
In passing it he surely whistled.
Each spine, each quill. it did protrude,
Don't get me wrong, I 'm not being rude.
That dog was cast-iron intestines,
He'd passed them all non-aligned.
Many an anus would be mangled,
To pass them all right-angled.
I know you've all been saying, s'truth ''
So I'll finish with the truth.
Perhaps you laughed at dirty bits,
But in the main you've had the shits.
So if one night at Pretty Plain.
You hear a howl, it sounds like pain,
you'll all know the reason now,
It's a wild dog saying, o-o-o-o............"
Composed during KHA walk "Ted's Favorite Huts", February-March, 1991.