Little Old Outhouse

In from the road-way,
The outhouse is leaning.
On the edge of the path,
The grasses are greening.

No more is it used,
As in days long of yore.
But now it is shambles,
And missing the door.

Time was...it was vented,
With flowers close by.
And as you sat thinking,
Gay birds would fly high.

With a little cross-bar,
That served as a lock.
You knew it was busy,
With no need to walk.

O the little old outhouse,
That most people had.
Every place had it added,
It was built there by Dad.


E.P. 1908 - 1989