Yes, I’d like to live in my own home…but…: A poem 

You see I prefer to live in a home 

that’s all read about me, like my self-dedicated tome 

Not borrowed or rented 

But what love and happiness invented 

A home where each rafter 

is spilling with benevolent laughter 

And within be that cardboard shafter 

that says `happily ever after!’ 

Where there is kettle tea 

and the knowledge of being free 

At least I don’t want to feel queasy  

I want to feel right about nothing if not all and not uneasy 

I did many, many a favour 

But just for me, how come I’ve got so little to savour? 

For, all that treachery’s hook and crook 

has left me in a cornered hopeless nook! 

Evil wants my petrol in its tank 

But I don’t want it to fill my bank (in return!) 

I swear I could have been a multimillionaire monk 

But I’d rather rock and roll and honky tonk 

I don’t even want an unwelcome Thank 

Must be the Wishmaster’s ship that sank 

O my doggerel hope is just to have a little comfort, not to be rich 

For, the Wishmaster’s connivance is not worth a stitch (for all the money!)