EVERY TIME IT RAIN'S
The PC council decidesThey've got nothing to hide
So for the fifth time
They decided to fill
The pothole outside
Of our front gates
Trouble is there's
Been a subsidence there
On the road infront of
Our front gates
The pond we have there
Is turning into a lake
For I was told that it takes
Seventy five pounds
To fill each pothole
I have only one wish
If it's to dear to repair the road
Could the council supply the fish
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 44 times
Written on 2024-10-03 at 00:38
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