Ode to the lock on the door

Oh,Yale lock on my  blue front door
Your ingenuity I adore.
You keep the thief from coming in
To steal the garbage from my bin.
To steal my husband’s radio
And other bits , I can’t say more.
I know we can have bolts as well.
We had a Chubb ,I can now tell.
And a giant front doorbell.
It played a dozen  different tunes
To frighten off that crescent moon.
So in my handbag I have keys
Asthma sprays for when I wheeze
GNT for heart attacks
And hankies in those dainty packs
Then , of course, I have my purse
Mobile phones which often curse.
I have lipstick, suncream,balm
A comb and toothpick  to add charm
So when I lock the big front door
I bow to Yale ,my key’s own whore.