The Throne of Ol' El Patron

Me ol' El Patron could not find a throne,

His plight was nothing but dreadful.
He looked high and low but where could he go?
He feared he'd soon have a pant full.

But then from his chivy he spotted a privy
and knew that it'd just have to do.
He slammed on the pedal until he hit metal
And felt the warm trickle of poo.

With clenched cheeks he ran, from the car to the can.

Eyes bulging he knew this was it.

He reached for the light but oh what a sight

The damn thing was covered in shit.

So into the night he drove with a fright,

The smell in the car it was awful.

His pants now were loose, and leaked like a goose.

And to think the whole thing it was lawful!

He looked for a stop, some place he could plop,

and get into some clean pantelones.

But out of the night came that flashing red light.

All is lost. It's the cops. Ayi cajones!

With lights all a flashing the cops went to bashing.

Me poor El Patron he was dying.

He told them the truth but they knocked out his tooth

And told him they thought he was lying,

So there in the goo, he knew he was through.

No help from these guys he was taking.

It was back to the border and in no short order.

In the Mexican sun he was baking.