I ate stuffed cabbage at one a.m.
The caesar salad came with them
So clear the aisle now
I'll need awhile now
for makin' poopie

Why am I racing straight to the loo?
Did I not mention the garlic too?
There's one thing certain
I'm really hurtin'
It's time for poopie

Picture the Knicks at Phoenix
that game went on so late
Then came that Seinfeld rerun
where George can't get a date

Oh what possessed me, what was the point
Of sittin', stinkin' up my own joint?
Think of life's treasures
the simple pleasures
of makin' poopie

My friends, they often wonder
Just what takes me so long
But if it goes too quickly
I say you're doin' it wrong

So shake your booty, just stop and go
Myself, I'd rather enjoy the show
I'll take the bowl, boy
I brought some Tolstoy
Three cheers for poopie

Yes—I've got my Tolstoy
I'll take the bowl, boy
Three . . . years . . . for . . .
Pooooopeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!

(Thank you; I'm here every day, folks!).