My father was a very odd man
He cooked our porridge in a frying pan
He went to work and he came back home
Carrying a bag full of garden gnomes
He hated them with pure sweet hate
He buried them all by the garden gate
We had no garden we had no lawn.
Despite all that the Sun came up at dawn
He never had a car and he never had a horse.
He was an artist but quite untaught.
He wanted several children and that’s what he got
There were three of us sleeping in one cot.
Three more slept on the landing too.
We have no beds but a wonderful view.
My six older brothers slept in one bed
There was no light but they were very well read.
Then he died and left us all alone.
Please don’t leave any mobile groans