My mail has just arrived, for what it’s worth,
more junk mail than letters to cause my mirth:
double glazing leaflets – two of a kind,
and an advert for a vertical blind;
a bag to hold some charity money,
and a poster for a play that’s funny.
A bogof offer at a sandwich bar,
and a discount if I buy a new car;
a cheaper package for my mobile phone;
a dating site leaflet if I’m alone;
a letter from the R.S.P.C.A.
asking me to donate more from today.
And just in case I get hungry at night
there are meal deal offers to give delight:
a free glass of wine in my local pub;
and mid-week offers for some cheap pub grub.
There’s an Indian food take-away menu
and another for a pizza or two.
All this junk mail keeps my postman in work,
as he passes it to me with a smirk.
There was too much mail for my letter box
all bundled up, so on my door he knocks.
On the outside is a biggish booklet:
mobility goods. Do I need them yet?
Next a ladies’ spring clothing catalogue;
a thank you card sent from a sponsored dog.
Then there’s another letter from someone
who would like to come and value my home,
just in case I were thinking of selling.
Well, will I let them? That would be telling!
I have thrown all the junk mail in the bin.
This week I have filled it full yet again.
But now I’ve found an important letter,
the one that might maybe make life better,
from my pension people. Will I be rich?
Oh no! Not on that offer. Life’s a bitch!