There’s a broken window somewhere and it’s letting in the breeze,
There’s a tap that’s always leaking if you’re not on bended knees,
But worry not, my darling, all will yet be well,
The council men are coming, the repairer team from hell.
They’ll mend your pipes with chewing gum, your leaks with clotted cream,
They’ll arrive three hours early in the middle of your dream,
They’ve got sticky stuff for dripping tanks and Tipp-Ex for mistakes,
And they’ll drain your kitchen teapot and eat up all your cakes.
So scan the skyline sharply and look for their yellow van,
They’ll screw your faults right royally like no-one ever can,
They’ll frustrate you and harass you and pervert your very will,
But at least you have the comfort of there being no charge bill.