Driven to Distraction

I picked up a bus in the High Street

then put it down on the park,

I drove my mum to Distraction –

that’s the next town on from Dunkirk.

I stood, like a lemon, in a downpour

and someone gave me a squeeze,

I gave the cold shoulder to Matthew,

in minutes it started to freeze.

I got into hot water for fibbing,

the water didn’t tell me a thing,

I threw bread at a tree for a lark

but instead it decided to sing.

I turned up my nose at the dinner,

it stayed like that for a week,

I tried not to be a wet blanket,

but my shoe laces started to leak.

Chrissie Gittins