An old politician from Southampton Decided to retire to Roehampton But his savings ran out His wife had a pout As she felt her views had been stamped on
An unfortunate saleswoman from Bicester Was annoyed that no-one would assist her So she stood there and scowled In her anger she growled Until on her tongue she grew a large blister
This lockdown is damaging our sense of well-being When will it end? I'm not that far-seeing, We see life in a new light Let's hope we can re-write And a better future we'll be guaranteeing
I'll do it tomorrow " is my mantra these days Well you've got weeks to sit and laze The kitchen's growing mushrooms And now I've lost my brooms I walk aimlessly round, in a haze.
This year is the ash out before the oak? So far, this year is beyond a joke No incentive for anything With a damper on everything I may as well have a long hot 'soak'