[Rob Stuart]

There’s nothing more generic than a local council wheelie bin,
But play it with a pair of sticks, you’ve got a glockenspielie bin.
Employ it playing hide and seek, you make it a concealie bin,
If ugly, you could wear it as an added sex-appealie bin.

You could decide to break it up to make a more piecemealie bin,
Or paint the thing in bluey-green and change it to a tealie bin,
Add bucketfuls of custard and, hey presto, a congealie bin,
Or porridge and you’ve got a massive serving of oatmealie bin.

Stick Batman in (and Robin too), create a Batmobilie bin,
Or burn it down in mid-July, et voilà, a Bastilleie bin.
A dinner eaten off it, it's a place-to-have-a-mealie bin,
Or put it in a tiny a cage to render it a vealie bin.

Stick bees and clocks and socks inside, you’ve made it a surrealie bin,
Exchange it for next door’s at night, your substitute’s a stealie bin,
Or try to guess the contents for a ‘Dealie or No Dealie’ bin,
Or slam your scrotum in it for a make-a-high-pitched-squealie bin.