She left without a word.
It was like loosing a limb,

Or she'd chucked me in the ocean,
Knowing I couldn't swim.

Today I found a Mouse,
Shocked on my lounge floor,
I don't remember inviting him in,
And if there's one there must be more!

I swear my cats give out free passes,
To all these little mice,
Or maybe they pay an entrance fee,
That's of an extortionate price.

But whatever their reason for being here,
I wish that they would leave,
Because I'm sure they'd be much happier,
Outside in the shade of the trees.

And if it's food that they're looking for,
I don't really eat much fruit,
Along with seeds, Grains, I can't grow plants,
So my house isn't that enticing to tell the truth.

However this little Mouse,
Sat on my lounge floor,
Only had half a tail,
And his foot looked rather sore.

So I picked him up gently,
And placed him outside,
In the gap between the grass and Wendy house,
A safe space where he could hide.

And now in the night,
He visits me for little chunks of cheese,
As I hear his dainty feet scatter,
Along the floor to return with the breeze,

The news will say we're suffering from excess immigration
That a rampant hoard of foreigners has fallen on our nation
But truthfully, there hasn't been a native Briton here
Since people dressed in mammoth skin and hunted with a spear

Our language is a mixture of a dozen different tongues
We munch our way through poppadoms, fajitas and fu-yungs
When cheering at a football match, we're infamously vocal
Our teams may be the finest but the players won’t be local

Genetically, a Briton is a multi-cultured stew
With Romans, Saxons, Vikings and the Celts, to name a few
Our national drink is Indian, the Germans make our beer
The TV comes from China and the table from IKEA

Potatoes from America and onions grown in Spain
A multitude of British things arrive by boat and plane
The rain that falls upon our hills has blown from over seas
And with it come migrating birds to nest in British trees

The Royal Windsor family have Greek and German genes
So think about just what it is that being British means
We're stronger with our differences, the best of humankind
Our nation, not an island but a common state of mind

At the back of the stage in a gloomy wee room
Where the cockroaches eat what the rats don’t consume
There’s a table enveloped in paper and grime
On a carpet now lost to a happier time
With a cast iron typewriter, rusted with age
In the gloomy wee room at the back of the stage

And under a lampshade of nicotine brown
Sits a comical legend of zero renown
How he plugs at the keys of his rattling beast
The years of persistence have left him decreased
Now he’s stuck in the shade of his hovering doom
At the back of the stage in a gloomy wee room

His words are for others and too, the applause
Though a standing ovation might cause him to pause
He hasn’t the courage to speak them aloud
For he’s lacking the bottle and shy of a crowd
So he captures the laughter in lines on his page
In a gloomy wee room at the back of the stage

We were supposed to fly together,
Soar through the sky against the wind.

Let the breeze lift you up,
Accept the weather conditions.

But you didn't like the fact it was snowing,
So you fell hurling downwards,
And cracked your head on the concrete.

I will forever mourn you,
You and your plastic heart.
The fake ways of saying "I love you too",
As you tick another name off your chart.

I will forever forgive you,
The way I cursed your name,
For you too have an open mind,
And a heart that beats the same.

I will forever forgive you,
Because a grudge is a bad idea,
And my Mother tends to exaggerate things,
So she's ingrained my mind with fear.

What I have learned from your leaving,
Is to never trust others,
No matter if they're your greatest friend,
Sisters or Brothers.

We're a selfish race of humans,
And you've just about proved my point,
Because a Devil tricked my Mother,
But her children's hearts she did anoint.