THREE ROOMS AND A PATH
In Nashville, every family boasts
Of five rooms and a bath.
But in my youth I never had
But three rooms and a path.
They built the outhouse on the brink
Of Tumblin Creek, and then
Each time I passed I had an urge
To push the outhouse in.
For weeks I fought this powerful urge,
And one day I was weak
I slipped out to the outhouse and
I pushed it in the creek.
That night my Dad called me aside
And all he had to say
Was "Do you know who pushed the house
Into the creek today?"
I told my Dad that it was I
He didn’t even chide
But then and there with a leather belt
Prepared to tan my hide.
"But Daddy" I said, "George Washington
Cut down the cherry tree
He told the truth and so his Pa
Let little George go free".
"But let me ask you something son"
My Dad said with a frown
"Was his Pa in the cherry tree
When George cut it down?"
Pek Gunn
Tennessee State Poet Laureate
the obvious solution is to ban all guns.. or have flourescent orange outhouses, and I don't think that's an option.
He busted a crap on him.
That kid mostlikely shot at that old out house dozens of times. This time, he did not know someone was in there...Bummer for both I guess.
That's my hometown! I grew up in Holliston.
aint that the sh!t
We used to tip over outhouses on Halloween in small town Colorado. We were culturally challenged or something.
they still have outhouses in Vermont ??
Ode To The Little Brown Shack
(Billy Ed Wheeler)
They past an ordinance in the town
Said we'd have to tear it down
That little brown shack out back so dear to me
Though the health department said
It's day was over and dead
It will stand forever in my memory
Don't let 'em tear that little brown building down
Don't let 'em tear that little brown building down
Don't let 'em tear that little brown building down
There's not another like it in the country or the town
It was not too long ago
That I went tripping through the snow
Out to that house behind my old hound dog
Where I'd sit me down to rest
Like a snow bird on her nest
And read the Sears and Roebuck catalog
I would hum a happy tune
Peeping through the quarter moon
Just like my Pappy's kin had done before
It was in that quiet pot
Daily cares could be forgot
And it gave the same relief to rich and poor
It was not a castle fair
I could build my future there
Build castles to the yellow jacket's drone
I could orbit round the sun
Fight with General Washington
Or be a king upon his own throne
It wasn't fancy built at all
Had newspapers on the wall
It was air conditioned in the wintertime
It was just a humble hut
But it's door was never shut
And a man could get inside without a dime
Healing is hell.
And the itching!
Something about this shooting smells....
From an email I recieved today.
What were they both doin' in the outhouse?
---Damn...just damn. I know that must have scared the s**t out of that man.