There's no place like home, they say, Just wish it had a view of the bay Or a mountain, or lake But the best of it, I'll make 'Cos I miss it when I go away.
That should have been poem but didn't quite rhyme, I'll do much better when I compose next time I'll try to make it fun If I don't succeed, I'll run Oh, don't worry, it's not really a crime!
There was a young lady from Fowey Who`s pastry was ever so doughy, To her party, she invited Two chaps who'd been knighted And sang great songs by David Bowie.
Then they rowed up and down on the river While she played a dance tune on her zither The men sang ballads While waiting for their salads Got inebriated, into the water they slithered.