This isnt a poem about a girl I once knew
Cos let me tell you man, there has been a few
As I have met many names as Sandy, Amy and those I have forgotton
And surnames not asked like Smith, Jones and McConnon
Goodbyes can also be said to streets I have lived
To my neighbours I once loved and those I'd like to seive
I'm writing this bard a bit to soon as I have still nowhere to go
Just looking at lottery wins in my dreams, to-and-fro
Would I head north or over to the greens of Ireland
Or back to where I grew up, Dorset and its Jurassic Sands
Would moving house make it harder on Wilf the cat
I'm sure he'd find a new place to prowl, they all have the odd rat
And driving up the A1, past the fighting metal zebras
Whilst missing the *** shop everytime, some stories to tell you
Looking up and seeing those birds of prey
Can see why they're are based here, the good old RSPB
But the pubs are closing one by one and now the Queens Head
If this keeps on happening, soon the town will be dead
So time to pick that fantasy house now on Rightmove
And say goodbye to Sandy,
with those fantasy millions, its hard to even choose....

JJB