My Wife’s Spectacles
Her specs are here, her specs are there,
Her spectacles are my despair,
Sometimes they’re found upon the stairs,
At times in depths of cosy chairs.
I seek them here, I seek them there,
At times I feel inclined to swear,
These demmed elusive spectacles,
They’re in some sofa’s tentacles.
I search the ground and grope the floors,
I hunt in vain without a pause,
But all she says is “lend me thine,
They suit me just as well as mine”.
