Mean Old Bugger Poem by Donna Caldwell
Mean Old Bugger
He's sat there yet again
Counting every penny
On his dark and dusty desk
His cash amounts to many
He has no form of heating
So his room is icy cold
He wraps around him tightly
A blanket very old
He only has one light bulb
Which he shares in every room
And instead of a vacuum cleaner
He uses a frail old broom
He drinks from his dirty mug
Tea less milk and sugar
And eats just bread and dripping
Cos he is a mean old bugger!
great observation painted well.... right out of....insulted and the injured.... liked it be happy sat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 8:13:17 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Love this, it's just great. Made me smile.