My cooker didn't stir;
She just upped chopsticks and left me.
She just upped chopsticks and left me.
My kitchen ceiling didn't fall;
He just blew his cover and got spirited away.
My kitchen units have been counted upon thrice,
And always come to naught.
And always come to naught.
But the kitchen sink wasn't thinking about it;
She just got carried away.
She just got carried away.
Still, I've got my curvy kettle,And water from the garden hose,
And I've found myself a wee bucket for water,
That'll cool the milk, the wine, and my summer toes.
And I've found myself a wee bucket for water,
That'll cool the milk, the wine, and my summer toes.
No comments:
Post a Comment