The Privy House

Now my family gets together and we talk of bygone days,

And how things was down on the farm, compared to city ways,
There’s some things we remember well can make a fellow blush,
And you can say I’m gettin’ soft, but I like commodes that flush,

For the wind would howl and the wind would roar,
Up through the cracks in the privy house floor,
Guess the coldest times I ever saw,
Was settin’ in the privy when the seat won’t thaw,

Now the thing that I remember ’bout my shiftless brother, Pete,
Was the way you’d hear him holler when he’d plunk down on that seat,
And his teeth would still be chatterin’ when he’d come back through the door,
And he’d cuss and swear he’d never use that privy house no more,

Said, “Bundle up and wear warm clothes,
It don’t help a bit when a chilly wind blows,
Cold inside and you set and freeze,
And the ice will form on both your knees,

But them icy winds that froze you there a-settin’ wasn’t all,
For that privy had its hazards from the spring right through the fall,
Ain’t nothin’ quite as scary as a swarm of angry bees,
When you’re stuck there in the outhouse with your pants around your knees,

And a copperhead or a rattlesnake,
Sittin’ in the privy with you makes you shake,
You’re eyes are searchin’ to and fro,
But you know you’ve got no place to go,

When you’re out there in the outhouse, settin’ broilin’ in the sun,
And your pants are ’round your ankles, so you can’t just cut-and-run,
And you know, deep down inside you, you’re just so much eatin’-meat,
To the sassy fat black widow that’s a-creepin’ ‘cross’t the seat,

Watch your tail, watch yor feet,
When you set on a privy house seat,
Down inside is black as coal,
But you’d better look first down the privy seat hole,

But the thing that brought my urge to use an outhouse to an end,
Was the time the black bear came inside to get out of the wind,
Grandmaw told me, up in heaven, how the good souls learn to fly,
Well, I went flyin’ down the mountain with a big old bear (bare?) behind,

Rainy day and a leaky roof,
In an outhouse small as a telephone booth,
Nothin’ else can give you piles,
Like settin’ in a privy with a bear that’s wild,

And the wind would howl and the wind would roar,
Up through the cracks in the privy house floor
And the coldest times I ever saw,
Was a-settin’ in the privy when the seat won’t thaw…

© Tim Henderson  1977