You poured drinks, then gorged…scored many more…
went home…sleep encore; you started to snore.
That’s not a short oar forging toward the shore.
With much shame you shit the bed.

It’s morn; you explore your foul outpour;
in nose pours an odor you won’t adore…
forge forward to the bathroom door.
Filled are you with dread.

Gross, the cacaty-cac that leaked;
it’s waste was your outlay.
You shit the bed; the stench, lord!, reeks—
Your Norge gets a workout today.

In the Norge you pour the sheets disgorged
from your bed that shortly will be abhorred.
You’re fortunate you’ve a washing Norge
to lift off sheet shit.
But: the slickened bed!