The sequel

Now wee Henry is the factory cleaner
The toilets he keeps them gleaming
But the poetry on the cubicle walls
It sometimes sends him screaming

Who are you? He yelled so very loud
Someday I'll catch you on
But all remained was a swinging door
THE SHITHOUSE POET, he had gone

Like a super hero I'd hide my identity
No one would ever know it
But beneath my shabby overalls
Was the logo THE SHITHOUSE POET

Now Henry scrubbed those toilets clean
But his work was all in vain
As he quickly fell down on his knees
THE SHITHOUSE POET had struck again

Who is he? He turned to me and said
I'll kill that bastard one day
So I nodded to him in agreement
And quickly walked away

But I couldn't stop my lamentations
And the poems, well they went on
And wee Henry, he was wheeled away
His mind had simply gone

Well he's lodging in the nut house now
Straight jacket on his back
So don't mess with THE SHITHOUSE POET
Cause' your mind is bound to crack

Now if you ever need a dump
And you use a public loo
Just read the poetry on the walls
It was written by YOU KNOW WHO

Gerald J Tate