Pome for March

Sorry, Chris, it is a bit scatological but here goes anyway…….

Guess where I am!

 

We all go in there from the street

When we feel we need to pee

We very rarely have to queue

Unless we’re a lady!

 

You see a porcelain wall

Or sometimes stalls in a row

Sometimes a row of bowls

Wherein the pee doth flow

 

If you have had too much to drink

Or a red hot curry

You might need to use a cubicle

And in a fearsome hurry

 

When all is done and we need

To wash and dry our hands

We rinse and try to dry ourselves

On towels that come in bands.

 

If we are lucky enough to find

A modern air blast dryer

We put our mitts within

And raise them up much higher

 

We tidy up looking in the mirror

And ever so discrete

We check our flies are done up

And go back in the street.