The Little People in the Toilet Bowl

When you look down the toilet,
There’s not much to see
Or at least that’s the hope;
That the poo and the wee
Will be all flushed away,
And the bowl will be clean,
So it’s just plain and boring,
You know what I mean.

So imagine the shock,
When a young girl named Belle,
Ran to the loo
When not feeling too well
And just as she got there,
About to throw up,
A small voice from somewhere yelled
‘No Belle please stop!’

And stop she sure did,
Her world went into spin,
Her nausea receded
And confusion set in.
She looked all around
For the source of the words,
But she could see nothing,
And felt quite absurd.

She turned on her heel,
And was ready to leave
When the nausea returned
With a sickening heave.
She turned back to the loo,
It was then that she saw,
The source of not one voice,
But ten, maybe more.

There were very tiny people,
All sitting in boats,
And home made creations
To keep them afloat,
Down in the toilet bowl,
Would you believe?
Indignant and worried,
She told them to leave.

We’d love to they told her,
We took a wrong turn,
We’re not good with map reading,
When will we learn?
Perhaps you can help us
Their leader implored,
You might know the right pipe
To take us towards
The grand reservoir
Off old Kensington street?
It was there, at the reservoir
That they had hoped to meet
Yet more tiny people
For a summer retreat.

And of course young Belle knew it,
It was very close by,
Or at least it was near
To those larger than flies.
So she scooped them all up,
In a battered old jug
All these minuscule people,
Each one less big than a bug

She got on her bike
With the jug in one hand,
And she wibbled and wobbled
On a route she had planned,
To ensure they’d go unseen,
These people and Belle
(She feared that a sighting
Would not work out well)

After a minute or two
They were there,
So she lowered the jug
To the ground with great care.
The small people climbed out
And they shouted their thanks,
As they gathered with others their size
On the banks
Of the Grand reservoir
Greeting old friends with delight,
Then away cycled Belle
In the day’s failing light.