The badgers looking happy

And the fox is getting fat

I’ve saved a bit of money

I don’t have to feed the cat

When it comes to summer

Mr Rat will start to breed

There won’t be any problems

For his little ones to feed

‘Cause if you go out on the street

You’ll smell the small, grey bin

There’s just no way to hide

The treasure that’s within

That’s if it’s even hidden

And not spread across my grass

‘Cause the bin man was too busy

Just picking his own arse

He didn’t put my handle up

He doesn’t give a ****

And now our neighbour’s garden

Just smells like a cesspit

There’s peelings on my flower bed

A chicken carcass on my lawn

And where my roses used to be

There’s just a cob of corn

The secrets out, I can not hide

And now my neighbours know

I’ve had fish and chips twice this week,

KFC and Dominoes

There are boxes in the car park

And boxes on the road

But as for my own green bin

It’s spilt its precious load

At the moment it is windy

Bins are blowing in the storm

That’s why there’s seven egg shells

And soggy cornflakes on my lawn

When it comes to summer

The temperature will rise

You won’t see the spilt, grey bins

Through the swarms of wasps and flies

The fourteen day old nappies

Will have the binmen screaming

Tales of failed potty training

D&V and baby led weaning

At least the wildlife’s thriving

As my tax is on the rise

But my neighbours fence has skewered

The remains of last nights pies

It looks just like a scarecrow

With its soggy pastry hat

And it’s steak and kidney innards

Are being eaten by the cat

So I guess it’s swings and roundabouts

‘Cause I’ve saved on feeding cats

But that little bit I’m saving

Goes on my increased council tax

Suzanne Watt