And my bow a lovely blue,
I'd spend the days with other toys
And play was all I knew.
The world outside was hidden,
Until I lost my eye.
I thought a patch would do the trick;
A pirate's life I'd try.
But when your fur goes missing,
And your stitches come undone,
To little Jim or Celia
You cease to be much fun.
My playroom days were numbered,
I sensed the doom within.
By Christmas it was time to go
Into the rubbish bin.
However, dearest reader,
Don't worry or feel sorry,
I've seen the world, tied to the grille
In front of this bin lorry!
Copyright © 2011 Jonathan Humble