There’s a student abode
I can picture it still
At the top of the hill
With its view of the moor
From the flaky front door

There's a parlour inside
With the ironing board raised
And the hearth all ablaze
The chairs are quite worn
And the curtains are torn

There's a kitchen beyond where,
Over the sink
Strung teabags for a drink
While a girl - sleepy head
Picks the mould off the bread

Down steps to the cellar
A mangle and sink
Look quite creepy I think
A fridge - once quite nice
Is now solid with ice

The Disco Queen cometh
Skunk-drunk totters in
On legs - far too thin
Makes tea for herself
And a little pink elf

At the top of the house
Is a large attic room
Naked men through the gloom
Kiss the girl on the mouth
As their hands journey south

There's a tiny boudoir
Where the curtains hang down
Are they grey? Are they brown?
Tiny nick-nacks surround
Pretty roses abound

At dawn I must leave
I pop in for a chat
See her hair pressed quite flat
As we blearily kiss
We hilariously miss

With a wave at the door
I set off for my train
Down the steep cobbled lane
But I'll always be there
For the memories we share

© Ed Rackstraw 2001