The early hours
The early hours
(with apologies to Faron Young)
It's two in the morning
You woke me up snoring,
I'll get out of bed for a pee.
Now it's three in the morning
And you're bloody yawning,
I'm lying here full of ennui.
Got to four in the morning
This is your last warning,
I'm in need of some sleep, can't you see.
Then at five in the morning
The skin you were born in,
Has woken up randy old me.
I was just getting started
You rolled over, farted,
My ardour decided to flee.
So, at six in the morning
With jim-jams adorning,
I've brewed up a fresh pot of tea.
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Okay, I googled Faron Young to see who you were talking about. Then I googled the lyrics to his song “four in the morning”. Let me just say “whole new level” is the only descriptor I have. His is melancholy sweet. Yours is sleepless and less discreet. But then… that beautiful, exquisite, indubitable last line… the pot of tea. In a pot of tea all things are made rosy and in a pot of tea all ills are solved. So in fact yours was the more epic saga and I congratulate you!! ππ
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Thank you worms. Faron Young’s song is well worth a listen if you don’t know itπ
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Maybe another night. I am all tucked in bed with the cat across my shoulder. Had round 2 yesterday. Early nights are quite the thing. π΄π΄
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Enjoy your early night. Hope the cat doesn’t snore!
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ππ. He does! I actually got a recording just today.
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π€£π€£
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Nap at 7 then?
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πh yes!
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That’s a wonderful poem Hobbo!
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Thank you Vinny! π
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