Back to the original evacuation

In the eye of the bounty,
For the desire of hungered,
Walked the morsel into a cavern,
The workshop of white chargers,
Four short of three dozen,
Cantering in dressage on two red hills,
Equally divided to the task.

The morsel mangled,
Masticated and crushed to pulp,
Moved deeper into the cavern,
And down a peristaltic tunnel,
Into the factory of acids and fluids,
The work of sustenance was at play,
Strength to the bones and life it gave.

Through tubes and bigger tubes,
In channels that define the living,
For activity yet misunderstood,
But necessary at all times,
Then all discomfort came a-belly,
Ascending the contraption of Thomas Crapper,
He settled to the evacuation.