I Can’t Be Bothered

I Can’t Be Bothered
I can’t be bothered;

Not in the least!
I am writing my memoirs,

Now, before I am deceased.
So, please don’t interrupt me;

Don’t knock at my door;

Don’t call me on the telephone;

And, definitely, don’t send round the law.
I need to concentrate

As some passages are hard

And I just can’t remember

Which lies to discard.
It’s nearly completed; 

The title, I mean;

I’m calling it:

‘My Life Living Under The Queen’.
It should be finished by Christmas

Though I don’t know which one;

I just need a few more jokes,

And to finish with a pun.
To say that it will sell

May be off of the truth;

But, my life (even made up)

Won’t appeal to da youf!
And to other ‘dear readers’

I can only pretend;

That they’ll download a copy

Once my copy’s been penned.
Anyway, I can’t be bothered;

I must not be disturbed

Silence is the order

Or I’ll be perturbed.
Anyway, off with you,

Young ‘reader-of-my-stuff’

I’ve spent too much time on this rhyme;

Too much, I say – enough!


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