Sitting in the labour
Where no-one’s very pally
I try to love my neighbour
But wind up loving Allie
She makes me joy she makes me sing
Allie you’re my everything!
A surly sod never content
Well almost never sad to say
Not that strife is his intent...
No, it could never be the same-
And yet the cherry tree two doors down
Exploded in pink as if to drown...
