Kick bits of tin from between the toes,
shreds of armor from trampled foes.
A little robe, click on the telly,
note garbage day, the cave is got smelly.
Candle lit with a snot rocket,
and me oh my it is easier to breath.
A little yawn shakes the walls,
notch the day and take care of hang nailed claws.
Two birds with one
yawn again
worn out stone.
Put on the kettle full of conquered bones
and a few charred oak trunks to taste.
Breath some fire into the big belly stove,
whistle the song that nobody knows.
No home is a home and no bed
a bed proper
without a good stretch and
a waited for cup of tea.
