Sunday morning, in the S-bend, you could see him arrive,
He was nine inches long and two inches wide,
Kind of broad in the center, narrow in the tip,
Bobbing in the bowl like a brown battleship,
Big Poo.

CHORUS

Big Poo...oo.
Big Bad Poo.
Big Poo...

He emerged from the bowels of Lady Jane,
With a fair bit of grunting' and a whole lot of pain.
He squeezed through her cheeks with fire and ash,
And into the bowl with one hell of a splash.
Big Poo.

CHORUS

Well, he started his life the day before,
As a nice, juicy beefsteak that was medium raw.
Alfalfa and vegetables hung him long,
And two hot cross buns made him awfully strong.
Big Poo.

CHORUS

Six glasses of wine lubricated his wake,
With some added propulsion from a chocolate cake,
And the big, lumpy midriff that bumped in the bowl,
Was the seed from a lichee she'd swallowed whole.
Big Poo.

CHORUS

It took fourteen flushes to send him away,
But the skid-marks he left clung on ten days.
This wasn't the end of his journey south,
He collected eight tampons and one dead mouse.
Big Poo.

CHORUS

This was Just the beginning of something' more,
There were curried prawns buried deep in his core,
They brewed that gas they run engines from,
And this floating log became an atom bomb!
Big Poo.

CHORUS

Well, he snuck through a valve at the treatment shed,
Where he lurked in the chemicals 'till they ate his head,
Then with a rush of gas and an almighty bang,
The whole plant went up, and the fat lady sang.
Big Poo.

CHORUS

Well, there wasn't a whole lot left of the site,
It was leveled to the ground by brown dynamite,
So they inscripted a plaque, and upon it was writ:
"At the bottom of this sewer, lies a big, mean ****...
...Big Poo."