Sitting in a prison, faces dead and bare,
Better keep my eyes averted,
Better had not stare.
But the urge to let one go in here is so very very great.
I know, I will play a game I call can you guess their fate.
Right in front of me a portly chap, with hands as big as spades,
A face as red as beetroot
I'll count remaining time to death in days.
Next to him a looker,our eyes briefly meet for just a bit,
Now I've gone all red, I really am such a tit!
Perhaps I will continue reading this old rag, to avoid a nervous sweat.
Whoops! I have it upside down I am such a silly git!
Doors swish open and in crams another one.
I wouldnt mind but now all I see is the crack of someone's bum!
Oh how much more of this torture do I have to endure.
I know! I will listen to the iPod of that spotty kid next door!
That's it i have had enough I am going to guff!
It'll either clear this tube or not?
I really do not care no more as I am crammed into this spot.
Hang on, wait a mo! Is that old man really scratching at his willy?
Thank God we've stopped at last I'm here at Piccadilly!
Before I extract myself, I will leave a parting gift
So all the anguish I just had will leave a ghastly whiff.
Bon voyage and Cheerio, I'll take my leave and go, the culprit of the vile odour you may never ever know.
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