There is a street in every town that owns a house
called lonely. Then when your just passing by you might
just say, 'if only.
If only could mean a life time of thoughts but it does'nt cure
Dont keep me hidden,
in this dark room,
please show me the sun,
so that I can bloom.
There was once a cat called
who had a bad habit,
of inviting himself to tea.
There is a workhorse that serves us well.
Its been around since time can tell.
It has a post at each end, to give support
with a stick in the middle, so it doesn't distort.
I love life but does life love me when I have to cook
tea for a family of three.
One wants this and one wants that and between
those wants I have to feed the cat.
Born out of wedlock,
with a chip on his shoulder,
one that was as big,
as a cliff face, boulder.
A lonely heart sets the table but is she a Milly,
a Betty or a Mabel. Tea, coffee, cakes and ale
but outside there blows a gale. Sash cord windows
rattling like chains, thunder and lighting tormenting her
When Kids were kids it was a time for fun
playing cowboys and indians with a make
believe gun. To play in the garden and hunt for
the fairy dell, but all that's gone and the streets
When my children were small,
we played a great, wet weather game.
One where we would travel,
on the Great Imagination Train.