A lovely place that can't be found,
On any British map.
Yet one I used to see with Mum,
While sitting on her lap.
There'll be no more selling fork handles,
And no more "language" from Tim,
No more of those wonderful monologues,
For it's sadly goodnight from him.
I'm troubled by a past mistake,
A stupid thing I said,
The more I try to bury it,
The more it haunts my head.
The sensible thing to do is to learn from such mistakes and move on.
However, sometimes this is easier said than done!