Poetry & Copy

Father wears his Sunday best,
Mothers tired she needs a rest,
The kids are playing up downstairs.

Sisters sighing in her sleep,
Brothers got a date to keep,
He can't hang around.

Our house it has a crowd,
Theres always something happening,
And it's usually quite loud.

Our mum she's so house proud,
Nothing ever slows her down,
And a mess is not allowed.

I remember way back then when,
everything was true and when,
we would have such a very good time,
such a fine time - such a happy time.

And I remember how we'd play,
Simply waste the day away,
And then would say nohing could come between us,
Two dreamers.

Our house, in the middle of our street.


Virgin media, a more exciting place to live.