The elephant that’s in this room
Just shat upon the floor.
I know what everybody says;
They say - simply ignore!
But when the bastard’s shat again
No self respecting chatelaine
Could cope with it much longer. Furthermore
That elephant’s been in this room since,
Let’s see, well before,
The end of March, and just slouched round
To block the exit door!
And now he gone and shat again!
Over my Persian mat! Explain
How we endure this for a month! Before
The latest rules I tried to tie
A face mask to his trunk.
He lifted his enormous leg
And showered me with spunk,
And now the fucker’s shat again!
He’s on some fucking scat campaign!
The worst of it’s I can’t even get drunk.
That’s because all of the booze
Long since went up his trunk.
Plus he’s scoffed all of the biscuits,
Though there’s nowt in which to dunk
And - Jesus Christ - he’s shat again!
And tough if you find that profane,
Because the cunt’s just shat another hunk!
Stuck with each other in this tiny room
We two shall skulk.
I’ll try and finish off this verse
And he, no doubt, will sulk.
And obviously he’s shat again.
Torment like this would twat Verlaine.
Very soon I hope that he will crush me with his bulk.
The alternative is paddling in his poop,
Spread through the room,
Though what the creature symbolises
I dare not to presume.
I’ll just observe, he’s shat again.
I think you might find that germane
As we glower at each other, left together in this tomb.