My father was a very strange man

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

I welcome comments and criticism

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