Can't compete with John's obvious winner but . . .
There's a library chap, and a woman, far worse,
Next door in our seaside hotel.
Pebble glasses, odd clothes, a liking for verse,
(Heard them at it as clear as a bell.)
They sing racy songs, well, you know what I mean,
So loudly they quite split my skull.
The bottles! The rows! And the language! Obscene!
I call them our neighbours from Hull.
Last edited by Jerome Betts; 05-06-2012 at 05:01 AM.
Reason: Tweaks
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