While visiting London, my girlfriend and me,
We were struck by the calling of nature to pee.
We found public restrooms, and entered the gates
To see if toilets in England were like those in The States

I peeked in the Men’s and I knew in a wink
That British pay toilets were not as you’d think.
If you paid or you didn’t depended if you
Had to go number one, or go both one and two.

If you wanted to sit when you answered the call
Then, it cost you 5p just to hire the stall.
But, if standing’s all right, and you don’t mind who sees,
You may take a pee gratis for as long as you please.

So I took a wee pee, and I washed in a sink,
And an air blower dried off my hands in a blink.
Outside I said to my girlfriend, "It’s free!
It’s free here in London, to take a wee pee!"

But my girlfriend was silent. She shook her sweet head.
Then cried out in anger, her face turning red.
She said, "You’re quite lucky! If I were a boy
Then I could experience this free-peeing joy!

"But, I’m not. I’m a girl and must sit in the loo.
And, what’s worse, it costs double: 5p times two!
What’s wrong with this country? How far will they stoop?
When they charge girls 10p just to piddle or poop?"

I consoled my girlfriend, though my heart wasn’t in it.
I wouldn’t changes things as they were for a minute.
In this imperfect world, must it always be true
That number ones cost the same as a good number two?

In the best of all possible worlds there can be
This one or that one might pay for a pee.
By some quirk of Fate, this time it was she
Who paid to sit down, while I stood for free.

That she had to pay, I couldn’t feel badly.
I took my good fortune and accepted it gladly.
It made me feel special, it filled me with glee
To be somehow rewarded for taking a pee.

And, that’s the way, I told myself,
That it simply must be.

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