Poetry to Groan and Strain to

While sitting on the dunny seat
I thought I'd give the lads a treat
when they returned to groan and strain
so I inscribed this small refrain
I'll just repeat it once again:
"Anarchy lives, the Trots eat shit
Pete Wilson doesn't get his bit
meet me tonight at ten o'clock
and stroke my thighs and suck my chocolate
coated lime ice block"
But sirs, what was my great dismay
on coming back the other day
to sit and shit and perchance to pray
The message had been cleaned away
so now I reproduce it here
I hope it gains attentive ear
This is my last and final word
Good luck to all of you, Joe Turd.