This weekend, I’m throwing it all away
It’s all got too much; it cannot stay
It’s cluttering up my once-tidy home
I need a fresh start to smarten the tone
It’s stuff and more stuff, it’s a hoarder’s delight
How could that happen, it seems, overnight?
It may just be one thing that’s tipped me over
But my stuff and his stuff are all mixed together
I can’t find a bean, when I used to be lean
I knew where to locate the things now unseen
But they’ve moved and I no longer know where they are
I check each nook and cranny, but don’t get too far
Messy house, messy mind; I’m craving some space
Where all my belongings are put in their place
Where I can move freely and stay fully able
to walk without bruising my legs on a table
It’s going – the lot – to the charity shops
The teddies, the books and all of the props
I could sell them on eBay, make a small fortune
I would make all the papers – the lovable loon
“Caught on camera in Waitrose in her birthday suit”
(after flogging her clothes at the Sunday car boot).
Everything must go!
