Oh how I try to open up the "eye,"
That's on my posterior end.
Feel like I'm smothered; It has become a bother;
I thought oat bran would be my friend.

(But I am) blocked despite bran,
That's what I am,
Blocked despite bran--no run.
Here on my perch,
There's nothing to besmirch
My pants, despite bran. . .
No fun.

So I'll stay here until the way's clear
And something starts a-movin' out.
Ain't tried pryin' or enema applyin'
I'm hopin' for a nasty bout

(Of the runs.) Blocked once, it ran--
Thank god for bran.
Back on my pants; I'm through
Paper unfurled. . .helped deforest the world.
If blocked, try some bran; you'll poo.