I kept my aged parents, Nagg and Nell,
in dustbins. With the years, a pungent smell
would emanate each time I raised the lid.
I’m sure they often yearned to make a bid
for freedom, but I knew they’d never risk it,
afraid that I’d withhold their morning biscuit,
or fail to wake them from their evening nap
to give them water and to feed them pap.
So there they stayed, day after hopeless day,
contented in their own despairing way.
But times have changed; supplies of biscuits failed,
and idiotic council laws prevailed.
Some fool decreed, without apology,
that in the interests of ecology,
parental dustbins had to be replaced
by plastic wheelie-bins, marked “Human Waste”.
Last edited by Brian Allgar; 03-19-2015 at 07:25 AM.
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