Gaseous Poo was a boxer
He floated just like a bee
He stung like a butterfly
sat on a peach, inserted rectally.
He floated on top of the water
A legend all bubbly and brown –
Knowing the crowd would try to enshroud
him with tissues – refusing to drown.
He was down but by God he was fighting
He was not going to let it all end
No miserable flush or stab with a brush
Could push him around the bend.
’cause Gaseous was a survivor
He’d been dumped and was shat on you see
But do not despair because Gas’ll be there
The next time you come in to pee.