Oh, toilet with your flushing plumbed
You are the saviour of girls young
We had to go outside at night
To a closet with no light.
When menstruating, it was hard
To run in rain down the backyard
What a glory later on
We had a bathroom with plumbing
Now many folks have three or more
One downstairs with its own door.
We used chamber pots at night
Without putting on the light.
But children rarely woke too soon
We’d have stayed in bed till noon.
Saturdays, my mother baked
All sorts of mysterious cakes
Then she knitted, sewed and cried
For my dad who who early died.
She sewed our clothes and brushed our hair
Didn’t bother with the stairs.
And she had her full-time work
Teaching children not to smirk.
She made them read and write in ink
She questioned them and made them think.
There was a loo for teachers use
Gosh, it flushed and was kept spruce.
Gone, the days of no bathroom
Gone the sweeping with the broom
Dysons are worshipped as our gods
Getting dust out of the rugs.
One thing always puzzled me
Why did God want us to wee?