Stuff

When he first moved in back in ‘54
He could waltz around on the parquet floors
But he soon succumbed with no place to hide
He required a haven from the world outside

Well he made a start on the skip next door
Where he found a freezer so he’s now got four
And the one that works is a place of rest
For a pile of broadsheets and a mouse’s nest

And there’s no more space but he won’t be beat
So he brings in stuff from off the street
It’s the stuff he craves and thinks he needs
It’s beyond repair or plainly obsolete

As a London boy living through the blitz
He would stumble over a gift from Fritz
When a firebomb fell in the dead of night
He was first to find it in the morning light

So he told himself if he’d got some sense
He would let it linger by the neighbour’s fence
Tell his mum and dad, maybe sister Sue
But in spite of all this he knew what he’d do

And there’s no more space but he won’t be beat
So he brings in stuff from off the street
It’s the stuff he craves and thinks he needs
It’s beyond repair or plainly obsolete

And growing old is a curse: there must be nothing worse
And the hoard is a curse: because he knows what it’s worth

For years its home was a garden shed
Now it’s kept beneath him underneath the bed
And if sleep won’t come or if he can’t rest
He will hold it tightly up against his chest

So when he can’t be arsed with his meal on wheels
Or if outmanoeuvred by his ten TV’s
When the phone is lost because no one rings
He’ll unleash the firebomb upon all his things

And there’s no more space but he won’t be beat
So he brings in stuff from off the street
It’s the stuff he craves and thinks he needs
It’s beyond repair or plainly obsolete

Words and music by Geoff Smith 4th December 2017

LOL

Lynnie

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