You never know who's at the door,
Though people don't come round no more;
It's mostly just giraffes, and such,
Since folks down here don't get out, much.
We get a possum, now and then,
A duck or two, a deer or ten:
We often, then, must mop the floor --
You never know who's at the door.
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Tagged: Tags Nonsense Poetry Whimsy
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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Such fun. Can you arrange a visit to me please!