The Outhouse

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Smoking Fanatic
Original poster
OTBS Member
Jan 29, 2007
between Columbus/Dayton Ohio
The Outhouse
>The House Behind The House
>One of my fondest memories
>As I recall the days of yore
>Was the little house, behind the house, With the crescent o'er the door.
>'Twas a place to sit and ponder
>With your head all bowed down low;
>Knowing that you wouldn't be there,
>If you didn't have to go.
>Ours was a multi-holer, three,
>With a size for every one.
>You left there feeling better,
>After your job was done.
>You had to make those frequent trips In snow, rain, sleet, or fog--
>To that little house where you usually Found the Sears Catalog.
>Oft times in dead of winter,
>The seat was spread with snow.
>Twas then with much reluctance,
>To that little house you'd go.
>With a swish you'd clear that wooden seat,
>Bend low, with dreadful fear
>You'd shut your eyes and grit your teeth
>As you settled on your rear.
>I recall the day Ol' Granddad,
>Who stayed with us one summer,
>Made a trip out to that little house
>Which proved to be a bummer.
>'Twas the same day that my Dad had
>Finished painting the kitchen green.
>He'd just cleaned up the mess he'd made
>With rags and gasoline.
>He tossed the rags down in the hole
>Went on his usual way
>Not knowing that by doing so
>He'd eventually rue the day.
>Now Granddad had an urgent call,
>I never will forget!
>This trip he made to the little house
>Stays in my memory yet.
>He sat down on the wooden seat,
>With both feet on the floor.
>He filled his pipe and tapped it down
>And struck a match on the outhouse door.
>He lit the pipe and sure enough,
>It soon began to glow.
>He slowly raised his rear a bit
>And tossed the flaming match below.
>The Blast that followed, I am told
>Was heard for miles around;
>And there was poor ol' Granddad
>Sprawled out there on the ground.
>The smoldering pipe still in his mouth,
>His eyes were shut real tight;
>The celebrated three-holer
>Was blown clear out of sight.
>We asked him what had happened,
>What he said I'll ne'er forget.
>He said he thought it must have been
>The pinto beans he et!
>Next day we had a new one
>Dad put it up with ease.
>But this one had a door sign
>That read: No Smoking, Please!
>Now that's the story's end my friend,
>Of memories long ago,
>When we went to the h ouse behind the house,
>Because we had to go.
>For those who never had to trot out in the Cold.....
Just be thankful
LOL...that is a good one. I remember, as a kid, we used to visit some relatives and they had out houses. At least they did have TP!
I read two other threads in the norm,
but in my head they were in all in "poem" form ........

(Kinda like after reading Dr. Suess to the kids, you think everything should rhyme)

Smoked eggs & ham,
GoFish, I am

oh no! I gotta go clear my head .........
I remember very well! Both grandparents and several aunts and uncles had plumbing of this description. Also, the old country church had the same out houses. They were a little crowded between Sunday School and preaching (AKA "chruch") so there was a waiting line. As I remember, it didn't smell very good but it really served the purpose. The thing I really hated was the dreaded chamber bowl under the bed. It also served it's purpose but then came the clean up the next day. But, you know, (now waxing philosophical) that was such a simple time. Going with Grandpa to shoot squirrels/rabbits/doves/quail, trying to learn how to milk cows, learning to hoe the garden vegetables, plow with a mule, working the bee hives .... what wonderful memories. (And all of it was done without air conditioning.) Back then, it was a combination of work and, to a youngster, adventure. Now, I like AC, cold drinks and smoking meat ... not to mention golf. Not sure if I'm progressing or regressing. Perspective is everything. is reader supported and as an Amazon Associate, we may earn commissions from qualifying purchases.

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