Oh where have you gone to my old purple coat?,
With your buttons made from the horns of a goat,
How i fought with my mother when she'd make me wear you,
Yet now i just wish that the mothballs will spare you.

I have searched in the attic, where my dress up chest is,
And ive looked in the garden where my tree house is,
How ive hunted and searched for you,my head has no peace,
I so want you to turn up, to give you to my neice.

Maybe one day i'll find you and hold you so close,
And say sorry for hating you and calling you gross,
I feel sure you're hung somewhere warm, in a cupboard,
So until then i hope you're safely covered.




(c) eileen mcgreevy 2010