Arrival uh’ Cools

Mum would shairt!

Count them bags of cool

They’re putting down shoot lad!

And mek sure tha hears ten,

So I stopped all and counted,

One, two, three and moor,

Until a raiched ten.

So conscientious was I,

Tho life depended on it.

Reet again for another month.

( 3^rd Dec 2011)