Our tower block has got a list
Two floors are underground
The windows on the south-east side
Now face a grassy mound
They say its bad foundations
Subsidence from the mine
Which no one mentioned when we moved
The survey showed just fine
Now residents are up in arms
In rooms that face north-west
South-east rooms are out of bounds
The council say’s that’s best
We all now sleep in kitchens
Wrapped up in cooking foil
We dare not boil a kettle
So we just drink cooking oil
The lift is out of order
Stuck on the thirteenth floor
And all the running water
Runs straight out on the floor
We abseil down the building
It’s hard to use the stairs
No one ever calls no more
So clearly no one cares
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
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