Sun Moult

The weather’s so hot that the sun’s started moulting.

It’s shedding its rays – my god, it’s revolting!

Rays on the carpet, rays on the chairs,

Rays on the table top, rays on the stairs.

Mum’s allergic to rays, so we’ve cleaned and we’ve scrubbed,

We’ve brushed and we’ve hoovered, we’ve swept and we’ve rubbed,

But the rays simply stay there. Unless there’s some rain,

We’re rather afraid that those rays will just stain.

And the rays keep on coming, they’re dropping, they’re pelting;

The sun is still moulting, and we are still melting.

We’ve all tried our best, but this isn’t much fun.

Have you a home for an unwanted sun?

 

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