"No Smoking Please"

One of my bygone recollections,
As I recall the days of yore
Is the little house, behind the house,
With the crescent over the door.
'Twas a place to sit and ponder
With your head bowed down low;
Knowing that you wouldn't be there,
If you didn't have to go.

Ours was a three-holer,
With a size for every one.
You left there feeling better,
After your usual job was done.
You had to make these frequent trips
Whether snow, rain, sleet, or fog--
To the little house where you usually
Found the Sears-Roebuck catalog.

Oft times in dead of winter,
The seat was covered with snow.
Twas then with much reluctance,
To the little house you'd go.
With a swish you'd clear the seat,
Bend low, with dreadful fear
You'd blink your eyes and grit your teeth
As you settled on your rear.

I recall the day Granddad,
Who stayed with us one summer,
Made a trip to the shanty
Which proved to be a hummer.
'Twas the same day my Dad
Finished painting the kitchen green.
He'd just cleaned up the mess he's made
With rags and gasoline.

He tossed the rags in the shanty hole
And went on his usual way
Not knowing that by doing so
He would eventually rue the day.
Now Granddad had an urgent call,
I never will forget!
This trip he made to the little house
Lingers in my memory yet.

He sat down on the shanty seat,
With both feet on the floor,
Then filled his pipe with tobacco
And struck a match on the outhouse door,
After the tobacco began to glow,
He slowly raised his rear;
Tossed the flaming match in the open hole,
With not a sign of fear.

The Blast that followed, I am sure
Was heard for miles around;
And there was poor ol' Granddad
Just sitting on the ground.
The smoldering pipe was still in his mouth,
His suspenders he held tight;
The celebrated three-holer
Was blown clear out of sight!

When we asked him what had happened,
His answer I'll never forget.
He thought it might be something
That he had recently et!
Next day we had a new one
Which my Dad built with ease.
With a sign on the entrance door
Which read: No Smoking, Please!

Now that's the end of the story,
With memories of long ago,
Of the little house, behind the house
Where we went cause we had to go!

Author Unknown....

Webmasters note: Ahhh, the good ole days! In my pre-teens, living in Idaville, PA, in the house on the hill, we used to have a three-holer! You haven't lived til you have experienced using one! Scroll down for other peoples experiences with this unique facility!

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Below are Outhouse stories provided by those of you who have viewed this website and had their memories jogged as to their own or family members experiences with your Outhouses!

Please take time to read the companion website
"Stories From the Little House Out Back"
before you go! They are funny! Please scroll down....

Click Here for "Stories From the Little House Out Back"

Click Here for "A Colorado Outhouse"

Click Here for "The Old Outhouse Out Back"

If you would like to find more information on outhouses
then you ever thought of, then visit the following links!


Home of the World Famous Outhouse Tour!

Frequently Asked Questions Regarding Outhouses

Outhouse Preservation Society Postcards

Please Send Email to: rayclark07"at"

For the story of my wife Faye's battle with ovarian cancer, the symptoms of it, and much, much more, click on the following link to take you to the front page of her memorial website.

Faye's Memorial Ovarian Cancer Home Page

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Last Updated on 11/27/12