Poem – George, next door

I’ve had some trouble lately,

From the fella whose next door.

I’m left depressed,

Cause he’s obsessed,

He’s a banjalleli bore

I get no rest from this awful pest,

Like thirty times this evening,

He’s tapping on the windows asking

If we want them cleaning

I tried to share my grief and ire,

When I’m down at the launderette,

But Mr Wu the owner is

A friend of his I’ll bet

And even when on holiday,

There’s no respite out here,

Try to relax, there’s Georgie

Sucking rock on Blackpool pier

And I find him a little bit creepy ,

When I walk the dog at night,

He’s there just by the lamppost,

Writing lyrics by the light

And then one morning he was gone,

No warble to be heard 

The streets are dim and silent,

So here’s a final word

Be careful what you wish for,

So soon its gone I fear,

but if you pop down to Wigan still,

It’s George’s tunes you’ll hear.

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