> The Old Gas Station
>
>
>
>
> The service station trade was slow.
> The owner sat around,
> With sharpened knife and cedar stick.
> Piled shavings on the ground.
>
> No modern facilities had they,
> The log across the rill
> Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
> That sat against the hill.
>
> "Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
> The owner leaning back,
> Said not a word but whittled on,
> And nodded toward the shack.
>
>
>
>
> With quickened step she entered there
> But only stayed a minute,
> Until she screamed, just like a snake
> Or spider might be in it.
>
> With startled look and beet red face
> She bounded through the door,
> And headed quickly for the car.
> Just like three gals before.
>
>
> She tripped and fell -- got up,
> and then In obvious disgust,
> Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
> And faded in the dust.
>
> Of course we all desired to know
> What made the gals all do
> The things they did,and then we found
> The whittling owner knew.
>
> A speaking system he'd devised
> To make the thing complete,
> He tied a speaker on the wall
> Beneath the toilet seat.
>
>
>
>
>
> He'd wait until the gals got set and then the devilish guy,
> would stop his whittling long enough to speak into the mike.
>
> And as she sat, a voice below struck terror, fright and fear.
> "Will you please use the other hole? We're painting under here"
>
>
>
>
> The service station trade was slow.
> The owner sat around,
> With sharpened knife and cedar stick.
> Piled shavings on the ground.
>
> No modern facilities had they,
> The log across the rill
> Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
> That sat against the hill.
>
> "Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
> The owner leaning back,
> Said not a word but whittled on,
> And nodded toward the shack.
>
>
>
>
> With quickened step she entered there
> But only stayed a minute,
> Until she screamed, just like a snake
> Or spider might be in it.
>
> With startled look and beet red face
> She bounded through the door,
> And headed quickly for the car.
> Just like three gals before.
>
>
> She tripped and fell -- got up,
> and then In obvious disgust,
> Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
> And faded in the dust.
>
> Of course we all desired to know
> What made the gals all do
> The things they did,and then we found
> The whittling owner knew.
>
> A speaking system he'd devised
> To make the thing complete,
> He tied a speaker on the wall
> Beneath the toilet seat.
>
>
>
>
>
> He'd wait until the gals got set and then the devilish guy,
> would stop his whittling long enough to speak into the mike.
>
> And as she sat, a voice below struck terror, fright and fear.
> "Will you please use the other hole? We're painting under here"
