We moved on into this neighborhood,
When we couldn't afford the rent,
So my pessimistic Uncle Jim said,
‘Next step down's a tent! '
The house is set in the meanest streets
And the locals here are rough,
They'd steal the pleats from your mother's skirts
If they weren't nailed down, that's tough!
So we put a chain on the old front door
We put a lock on the back,
Friday, December 5, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: humour