The "Poetry" Series

           Mail Box

My wife had had a life-long goal

To have a mailbox on a pole.

Just like they have in t’ USA

Where ’ruddy door is miles away.

“I think it’s daft,” says I to her,

“When our front door is only there,

The letters drop down on the mat.

I just can’t see what’s wrong wi’ that.”

“Well, folks can see them every day,

And ’specially if we’ve gone away.

I think a burglar with a torch

Would see the letters in the porch.”

“Well, I think it would be a sin,

To make a box to catch ’em in,

And if it’s out there on the wall,

We’ll get wet going for ’em all.”

“Well, I don’t care what you’ve to say,
I’m going to buy one now, today.

You can come with me, if you like,

Unless you’re going on your bike.”

“No. I’ll come with you on the bus,

I’m not a man to make a fuss,

I’ll help you choose the one you want,

We’ll get it now for on the front.”

I took her to the hardware shops,

And looked at every letter box.

She chose a black one, wide and tall,

And said we’d put by the wall.

We took it home. I got a pole

And then I made a two-foot hole.

And with my hammer bashed it in,

Preparing for the letter bin.

And after half a dozen knocks,

I went to get the letter box.

But when I read the label header,

T’ thing was just a paper-shredder!

She said, “I think it will be grand

To have a mail-box on a stand.”

And I agreed it couldn’t fail,

… unless you want to READ the mail.