> One of my fondest memories
> As I recall the days of yore
> was the little house, behind the house,
> With the crescent o'er the door.
>
> 'Twas a place to sit and ponder
> With your head all bowed down low;
> Knowing that you wouldn't be there,
> If you didn't have to go.
>
> Ours was a multi-holer, three,
> With a size for every one.
> You left there feeling better,
> After your job was done.
>
> You had to make those frequent trips
> In snow, rain, sleet, or fog--
> To that little house where you usually
> Found the Sears-Roebuck catalog.
>
> Oft times in dead of winter,
> The seat was spread with snow.
> Twas then with much reluctance,
> To that little house you'd go.
>
> With a swish you'd clear that wooden seat,
> Bend low, with dreadful fear
> You'd shut your eyes and grit your teeth
> As you settled on your rear.
>
> I recall the day Ol' Granddad,
> Who stayed with us one summer,
> Made a trip out to that little house
> Which proved to be a bummer.
>
> 'Twas the same day that my Dad had
> Finished painting the kitchen green.
> He'd just cleaned up the mess he'd made
> With rags and gasoline.
>
> He tossed the rags down in the hole
> Went on his usual way
> Not knowing that by doing so
> He'd eventually rue the day.
> Now Granddad had an urgent call! ,
> I never will forget!
> This trip he made to the little house
> Stays in my memory yet.
>
> He sat down on the wooden seat,
> With both feet on the floor.
> He filled his pipe and tapped it down
> And struck a match on the outhouse door.
>
> He lit the pipe and sure enough,
> it soon began to glow.
> He slowly raised his rear a bit
> And tossed the flaming match below.
>
> The Blast that followed, I am told
> Was heard for miles around;
> And there was poor ol' Granddad
> Sprawled out there on the ground.
>
> The smoldering pipe still in his mouth,
> His eyes were shut real tight;
> The celebrated three-holer
> Was blown clear out of sight.
>
> We asked him what had happened,
> What he said I'll ne'er forget.
> He said he thought it must have been
> The pinto beans he et!
>
> Next day we had a new one
> Dad put it up with ease.
> But this one had a door sign
> that read: No! Smoking, Please!
>
> Now that's the story's end my friend,
> Of memories long ago,
> When we went to the house behind the house,
> because we had to go.
> For those who never had to trot out in the Cold.....
> Just Give Thanks!!!
>
> Author Unknown!!!
> Submitted By Happy-Marvin
