Some friends of mine were absolutely fraught,
Standing, staring at the ensuite toilet,
The bowl full, not behaving as it ought,
The septic tank blocked, the pipes full of shit.
A plunger wouldn’t free the blockage there
So the back toilet was the next to check.
A running hose, fed down the loo with care
Would clear the block, – foolish in retrospect.
“Turn off the hose!” For one of them had found,
The ensuite floor was covered in effluent.
Flushed by the hose, tile and carpet did abound
With shit and pee. The reverse of their intent!
They gagged, towelled and mopped the floor for hours,
Worked hard to return the scent to flowers.