The legend lives down from the toilet on down
Of the big shit dropped beneath his knees
The turd, it is said, was as brown as chocolate
When the pipes of the toilet went cloggy
With a load of feces more than a dog eats and stores
Then ol' Edmund Fitzgerald pooped godly
That good shit was true and clogged sewers all through
When the pipes of his toilet clogged early

His shit was inside for weeks at a time
Long and black like an eel in ocean
As the big floaters go, it was bigger than most
With ExLax and Pepto-Besmo well seasoned
It came through his ass like a melon in glass
And stained his butt and his dog Stephen
And later that night when the crickets did fight
Could it be a good shit he'd been feeling?

The shit on the seat made his butt feel round
And he stretched his spintcher like a railing
And every man knew, as the Fitzgerald did too,
T'was the pipes of the sewer came braking
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the feces of Fitzgerald came splashing
When afternoon came the crap touched his colon
In the face of a toilet paper crisis

When suppertime came, he flushed his shit away
"Fellas, it's too rough to breed ya."
At Seven P.M. the main pipe ways caved in, he said
"Fellas, I don't wanna leave ya"
The crap did fire in with the water coming in
And this furniture was in peril
And the big turds weren't right when a long one was in sight
Was the turd of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the huge feces go
When the pipes turn the cloggers to floaters?
The caca they say made his spincher sore today
And the flies made his house their house too
When his feces split up or made his house capsize;
His house was full of crap and toilet water
And all that remains is the feces and the rains
Of the man that they call Fitzgerald

Ass clusters roll, Shit pies and turds sling
In the rooms of his ass ridden mansion
Some piss and dung streams flood like a rain water dream
His ass made and stretched out misfortune
And farther below the toilet stands still
Caked in shit and piss with brown tender,
And his iron floats by in the lake of Pissfly
With the clogging of the sewer remembered

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each foot laid by Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives down from the toilet on down
Of the big shit dropped beneath his knees
The turd, it is said, was as brown as chocolate
When the pipes of the toilet went cloggy