195 - Wheelie Bins

Wheelie bins, Wheelie bins

Use the right one, Or it's a sin

Get them out on the right day

You might get put away

The rules you must follow

Or it's a crime you know

Wheelie bins, Wheelie bins

Don't look at the stuff that's sat within

They stink to high heaven

At ten to eleven

When you realise with sorrow

They've got to be out by tomorrow

Wheelie bins, Wheelie bins

So many colours, Thick ones and thin

Green for recycling?

Black for anything?

Blue for the glass?

It's all a pain in the ass

Wheelie bins, Wheelie bins

It is any wonder, nobody sings?

About these huge things

That really ming

Soaked in dog piss

I'd give them a miss

Wheelie bins, Wheelie bins

Dragging them out, you get soaked to the skin

Because it's always raining

And yes I'm complaining

My life's in this groove

And I've got no room to move!

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From a Facebook challenge by Pauline Loveitt Pryde.

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This poem appears in the book World’s Bestest Poetry Volume Two, available from the Shop!