I heard a conversation about outhouses at Curves this week then Johnny G. writes about them in his blog. My massage therapist told me about a book she had read about them and was going to let me read it. She couldn't find it so sent me a website where I could vote for my favorite one which I did. Since I couldn't find my picture of the out house at the country cemetary where all my people are buried I borrowed this cute one from helenmit34. So to put my two cents worth in here is a poem I wrote sometime ago.
Santas In The Outhouse
Santas in the outhouse children gotta wait,take another nap kids santas gonna be late.
The reindeer are pawing, chomping at the bits, while looking at the catalog, in the outhouse he sits.
The snow is coming down with Christmas almost here. He'll get out of there in time just never never fear.
Santas in the outhouse its something he's gotta do. He will be out delivering toys just as soon as he is through.
The chimmneys have been cleaned anticipating his red suit,carrying a bag on his shoulder filled with Christmas loot.
Santas in the outhouse, hope he didn't forget the date. Mrs Claus will call him since she is his Christmas mate.
Elves have oiled the runners on the little red sled. The reindeer have been brushed and already they are fed.
The newsmen are at the ready to track him in the sky. Everyone debating do reindeer really know how to fly?
I think I hear the jingle bells, hooray he's finally out, he'll make all the children's houses of this I have no doubt.
Santa was in the outhouse, but now he's finally out. Christmas will go on as usual, he's already started his route.
Jump in bed little children pretend to be asleep, cover up your head you're not allowed to peep.
Santas out of the outhouse, I knew he'd be on time. I just couldn't help myself, please forgive this little rhyme.