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The Garden Shed

My computer’s eaten Microsoft Office

It’s swallowed twelve years of work

It’s caused me to pull out the hairs from my head

So I’ve come to sit in the shed

The kids are all fighting, their schoolwork’s untouched

They’re glued to their tablets and phones

They can’t hear a single thing that I’ve said

So I’ve come to sit in the shed

The dishes are stacked up in dirty great piles

The laundry is starting to smell

There’s fur on the fruit and there’s mould on the bread

So I’ve come to sit in the shed

The news is depressing, the outlook is grim

Our leaders just don’t have a clue

The dog has decided to sleep in my bed

So I’ve come to sit in the shed

The phone keeps on ringing, the emails won’t stop

I’m pushed from pillar to post

The TV is broken, the WiFi is dead

So I’ve come to sit in the shed

If anyone wants me, please don’t let on

Don’t tell them where I’ve escaped

Perhaps say I’ve gone for a bike ride instead

While I sit here, alone, in the shed


By Conrad Burdekin


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