There are cats, and this and that’s,
Left on mats, next to hats,
And two mousetraps, in our flats.
Yes we have mice, I’ve seen them twice,
They bring in lice who eat the rice,
Which isn’t nice, to be precise.
This makes mum mad, who shouts at dad,
Things could turn bad, so off I pad,
Go shopping lad (If cash I had).
When I get home, I sit alone,
On cushioned foam, turn off my phone
Get in my dome, my poem zone.
Dad comes back, with uncle Jack,
Who’s got the sack, from The Shoe Rack
For holding back, no shelves he’d stack
Mum makes tea for Jack plus three,
Great for me, and mum I see,
It’s good to be a family.