Settle in, my little friends, and get ready for a tale
About a fairy queen, a magic bean, a captain and a whale.
A story of glory, of honour and valour,
Of kingdoms and kings and arrows and slings
And crowns with thorns and unicorns
And flying cats and purring bats.
And all these things live on a brand-new planet
Ruled by a talking axolotl named Janet!
Now, that would be some story, it’s true.
But this story is actually about a poo.
It’s the story of a little Poo-Guy named Ernie
Who went on a self-worth discovery journey.
Ernie liked to chew the fat.
He loved to natter, loved to chat.
So it brought a Poo-Tear to his little Poo-Eye
Every time someone walked right on by.
See, no matter what Ernie did or said,
Everyone who passed him would turn their head
And crinkle their nose and exclaim ‘EEWWWWWW!
I JUST WALKED STRAIGHT PAST A POO!’
‘Ah yes, you did!’ Ernie Poo would reply.
‘My name is Ernie and a Poo am I!
Come back! Stay and chat! I’m a real nice Poo-Guy!
Let’s talk about politics! Philosophy! The weather!
Biology! TV! Your Aunty! Whatever!’
But one after one, woman, man, boy and girl
Would get up close and their lip would curl
And they’d say to each other,
‘Gross, a poo! I wanna hurl!’
Then one day a dung beetle crossed Ernie’s path.
She stopped in her tracks and she started to laugh.
‘Hello, Mrs Beetle,’ said Ernie, ‘I love to laugh too!’
‘Yum, yum, yum!’ said the beetle. ‘I love to eat poo!’
‘Stars above!’ Ernie cried, and he started to run
Sliming poo-ily down the road towards the setting sun.
‘That was mega super scary! I need to talk to someone!’
But even in this darkest hour
He couldn’t make a conversation flower.
He’d almost been eaten alive on the spot
And not a single man or beast cared a jot.
And at that point, Ernie Poo had had enough.
He became bitter and angry and coarse and gruff
And he retreated to a little place
In the back of his mind, where time and space
Don’t matter at all – in fact, nothing does –
And he sat about, sad, when a fly began to buzz …
‘Go away fly,’ said Ernie, ‘I’m trying to be sad!’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said the fly. ‘I never make people glad.
See, nobody likes to talk to a fly
They say, “Shoo, fly, get lost, blow away to the sky.”
Or worse, they get the spray, and say, “You’re gonna die!”‘
‘Oh, that’s so awful!’ said Ernie the Poo.
‘Just like me, nobody wants to talk to you?’
‘That’s how it goes,’ said the little black fly.
‘Well it was nice to chat, I’m so glad I stopped by.’
‘You like talking to me,’ said Ernie, ‘even though I’m a Poo?’
‘Flies love Poos, so of course I love talking with you!’
And suddenly, Ernie was all aflutter.
His Poo-Heart melted like chocolate butter.
Just like sticky and smelly birds of a feather,
The Poo and Fly must stick together.
So the Fly and Poo talked all through the night.
Before they knew it, it was broad daylight.
After that, they never were apart
And soon they made two new friends,
A Flea and a Fart.