Some twenty houses all in a row. <br />They gossip all day long you know. <br />As I go past the garden gates, <br />To visit the pub and see my mates. <br />The windows whisper, 'There he goes, <br />No wonder he's got such a shiny red nose.' <br />'He's the biggest boozer in the road, <br />He even beats old Mother Joad, <br />She can down a pint of gin, <br />And ask for more with a silly grin.' <br />The chimneys you can hear above them all, <br />There he goes, He's heading for a fall. <br />Why cant he drink his beer at home, <br />But a pints not the same without its foam. <br />Even the roofs pour on the oil, <br />It really makes my poor blood boil. <br />My own front door gives me no peace, <br />Threatens to go and call the Police. <br />I've even thought of moving away. <br />It matters not what others say. <br />But I always seem to be in the wrong. <br />Perhaps the beer is a little too strong. <br />You know I don't want to leave my road. <br />My drinking doesn't bother Mrs. Joad. <br />As for the houses, what do you think, <br />Do they have to pay for what I drink. <br />You know if the windows weren't so clean. <br />They wouldn't know where I have been. <br />I'm going to get Parliament to make a law, <br />That windows are not to be cleaned anymore. <br />Then perhaps I can drink my beer in peace. <br />Without my front door threatening to call the Police.<br /><br />Bernard Shaw<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gossips/
