I’m never going to be the handyman
Around the house my father was
So don’t be asking me to hang
A curtain rail for you because
That screwdriver business just gets me confused
It takes me half an hour to change a fuse
And when I flicked the switch the lights all blew
I’m not your handyman
Don’t be expecting me to put up shelves
Or build a garden shed
But I can write a song that tells the world
How much I love you instead
I’m not any good at pottery
So let’s lose a ‘t’ and just shift back the ‘e’
And I’ll find a way to make my poetry
Build a roof over our heads
I know it looks like I’m just reading the paper
But these ideas I’ll turn to gold dust later
’Cos I’m a writer, not a decorator
I’m not your handyman