Ain't it amazing how fast we can come up with songs about shit?

A SHITTY POEM by WHOFLUNGPOO aka Dharmabum

You've heard about the goodwill games,

Where every one's a sport,

Well grab a glass & park your ass,

Cause this story ain't too short.

There is a game that's gaining fame,

It's running rampant through the nation,

Where you stand & spit little balls of shit,

It's called Projectile Defication.

Now the games are held in Londontown,

Where spitting loogies is illegal,

But on this one day it is OK,

For the spitting of the fecal.

30 men all gathered round,

They were men all stout & hearty,

As the sun rose high into the sky,

The air smelled kind of farty.

First up was a scottish lad,

20 feet he shot his dung,

He smiled north & south as he wiped his mouth,

And said "it pays to have a pipers lung".

Next up was an Irishman,

Like a batter to the plate,

The poo flew like a B 52,

He said "now I've gotcha mate".

Then walked up an asian lad,

From Japan I heard them say,

To represent his homeland,

On that sunny London day.

Without a word he spit that turd,

That dung it went a flyin,

It sailed for nearly 30 feet,

I swear that I ain't lyin.

He rinsed his mouth with a can of ale,

Said "Osaka is the name"

Then he spit to clear the shit,

& out came a bright blue flame.

Competition went all afternoon,

Each one still farther more,

Until up walked a scawny lad,

Who came from a distant shore.

Said"I'm here today from the USA",

"To take the crown back home",

"But I don't spit little balls of shit",

"You see I've brought my own".

With that he reached into his bag,

& Prepared for the next round,

In a word it was an elephant turd,

& It weighed about a pound.

He slowly walked up to the line,

This day he beamed with pride,

The other men took one step back,

The women & children ran to hide.

He stood there with his eyes closed shut,

He was deep in contemplation,

"If only I can pull this off",

"I'll be the hero of my nation".

He took one last deep cleansing breath,

& Let go with a smile,

It shot out with a rockets force,

And flew more than a mile.

The crowd it cheered it whooped it yelled,

He was the victor for his nation,

They said you are the one to wear,

The crown of defication.

Now when he came to Londontown,

He felt just like a zero,

But now he's on his way back home,

To wear the crown of a great hero.

Now It's absurd to think an elephant turd,

Could fly more than a mile,

And if you ask him how it's done,

He'll just look at you & smile.

And say "It's no big secret",

"It's all mind over matter",

"You see,If you don't mind the taste"

"It really doesn't matter".