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
Stroud
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