The Ballad Of Connie's Garden Crisis

Connie was dying for a piss,  
But the vicar was there,  
It was a day of summer bliss,  
And garden-based prayer.

But Connie feared a deadly leak,  
She searched for a bush,  
The vicar continued to speak,  
His wife called out, “Hush.”

The vicar strolled off down the path,  
And Connie saw her chance,  
She slipped away, suppressing wrath,  
While most folk stayed in trance.

She found a bush and dropped with grace,  
Let blessed waters flow,  
Then tugged her pants back into place—  
Her cheeks began to glow.

She’d clearly helped to feed the plants,  
But fate would soon attack:  
“Why Connie, now I’ve seen your pants,”  
Said Vicar, at her back.

She froze upon the daffodil,  
Her blush a crimson map—  
And worse still, through the holy chill…  
Connie needed a crap.