(I'm sure Ikea would be prepared to use my poem in their advertising if ever I decided to prostitute my art.  A re-post but, honestly, you can't have too much of a good thing)

 

I just don’t know what to do with my shelf

I just don’t know what to do with my shelf

It’s a bargain I bought from Ikea in town

Now the bugger’s fallen down

I used 2 inch screws

I just don’t know what to do.

 

I just don’t know what to do with my drawers

They’re made in pine so they matched with my doors

Though instructions came in the flat-pack all of these

Were mostly printed in Chinese

I just sniffed the glue.

I just don’t know what to do.

 

But I stuck my nose

To the window pane

Now I can’t go back to Ikea

To complain.

 

I just don’t know what to do with my stool

Why did I buy it?  I feel such a fool

It was missing dowels and it was missing pegs

This one’s only got two legs

The seat’s missing too

I just don’t know what to do.

 

But as timber goes

It was pretty good

And for sure it makes for

Cracking firewood.

 

I just don’t know what to do with my bed

“Just fill with water” the salesman had said

But the bloody thing has turned out such a dud

One fag burn’s caused the house to flood

Insurance?  No fear!

I shan’t go back to Ikea.