THE FAMILY FLOATER

No-one knows who did it,
All accusations are denied.
But flush after flush
There it floats and gloats at us,
As if to say, ‘I never will go away.’
And when you think, having pulled the chain
Time and time again
To force the damned thing down the drain
‘It’s gone at last,’ – back it comes
Silently sliding into the bowl
Refusing to go the way of all poo
Round the bend and down the loo,
Always escaping its paper shroud
And keeping apart from the crowd
Of standard offerings to our ‘Albion’.
And though in turn, all of us wee and pee on
This stubborn and damnable turd
Unflushed it demands the final word
Silent and smirking, having its say,
‘Here I am, here I will stay
Lurking in my little pool
Where I have the right to rule.’
But suddenly one happy, happy day,
We realize it’s crumbled quite away,
And then the only thing to make us vexed
Is anticipation of the next.