Our weekly pay tis not a lot
we pay the bills and count what's left
enough for milk and a loaf of bread
ohhhhhh there's even enough for a dozen eggs.
Robbing Peter to pay Paul
Has come to be a way of life
A roof over our head we are grateful for
and a nice warm bed at night
We have the comforts that we need
I guess we shouldn't grumble
'But We dont have lavish holidays'
I hear my two sons mumble.
A tent in the Garden it will be
'oh not again' they say!
Why cant we go to the USA or even to Pompeii?
Sons you must be thankful
for the Garden that you've got!
some just have a windowsill others a veggie plot.
It may not be the Riviera or the Isle of Sicily
But Our Garden is our Holiday your apartment by the sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem