The little house
behind our house
One of my bygone recollections,
as I recall the days of yore
is the little house, behind the house, with the crescent over the
door.
'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 granddad, who
stayed with us one summer,
made a trip to the shanty which proved to be a hummer.
'Twas the same day 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 not a 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 built with ease.
With a sign on the entrance door which 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
Submitted by Andy, Gettysburg,
Pa.