A years supply I didn't need
Of wholemeal bread with poppy seed
But that's my shopaholic mate
I need to stop this shopping trait
The house is full of what's on sale
My life is like an epic tale
Of things that mount up in each room
We just might open a store soon
And maybe then I'd free my life
Of all the crap bought by my wife!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem