> The Little House Behind the House
>
> 'Twas a place to sit and ponder with your head bowed down low;
> Knowing that you wouldn't be there, if you didn't have to go.
> Ours was a three-holer, with a size for every one.
>
> You left there feeling better, after your usual job was done.
> You had to make these frequent trips, whether snow, rain, sleet, or fog;
> To the little house where you usually found the Sears-Roebuck catalog.
>
> Oft times in dead of winter, the seat was covered with snow.
> 'Twas then with much reluctance, to the little house you'd go.
> With a swish you'd clear the seat, bend low, with dreadful fear;
> You'd blink your eyes and grit your teeth as you settled on your rear.
>
> I recall the day that Granddad, who stayed with us one summer,
> Made a trip out to the shanty which proved to be a hummer.
> 'Twas the same day that my Dad finished painting the kitchen green.
>
> He'd just cleaned up the mess he'd made with rags and gasoline.
> He tossed the rags in the shanty hole and went on his usual way;
> Not knowing that by doing so he would eventually rue the day.
>
> Now Granddad had an urgent call, I never will forget!
> This trip he made to the little house lingers in my memory yet.
> He sat down on the shanty seat, with both feet on the floor.
>
> Then filled his pipe with tobacco and struck a match on the outhouse door.
> After the tobacco began to glow, he slowly raised his rear:
> Tossed the flaming match in the open hole, with no sign of fear.
>
> The blast that followed, I am sure was heard for miles around;
> And there was poor ol' Granddad just sitting on the ground.
> The smoldering pipe was still in his mouth, his suspenders he held tight;
> The celebrated three-holer was blown clear out of sight.
>
> When we asked him what had happened, his answer I'll never forget.
>  He thought it must be something that he had recently et!
> Next day we had a new one, which my Dad had built with ease.
> With a sign upon the entrance door that read:
>
> NO SMOKING, PLEASE!
> Now that's the end of the story, with memories of long ago,
> Of the little house, behind the house where we went cause we had to go.
>
>
> ~author unknown