Deep in the undergrows, Handy sighed with relief
He'd come alone in the dark
He'd come again at dawn, if not before the morning cockrise
Meanwhile in the bushes above
Behind the toepath which goes along
Beside the canal leading to the sea
Which in turn leads on to all the major oceans
Indian, Atlantic, Pacific
I can't remember the names of the others off-
Handy cided to leave
He'd come apart at the seams
Endangered life and lawn order before
The more since he lies
Even under oath, Handy lies
When he feels caught between righthand wrong
I think he just might have been wrong this time
Which in turn left him with few alternatives
To relieving himself by hand
Alone in the dark, hiding in the bog