The House In Mount Druitt

We moved into a new house, my Jimmy and I

Wanted to live on our own, give it a good try

It was pretty, small and sweet

I kept it nice and neat

Beans out the back, and out the front, a seat




At first we were happy, Jimmy used to play

Out in the garden, running around all day

But as March turned into June,

Things began to change

Became a little eerie, and just a little strange




I was cooking pasta, Jimmy’s mac and cheese

When the Microwave turned on, easy as you please

Then it turned off again,

I said ‘What the bloody hell?’

I furtively checked the power cord, to find that all was well




One night I woke up, yearning for some tea

I had aches and pains yet again in my stubborn bad left knee

But as I turned the kettle on,

It jumped onto the chair

It began tap dancing merrily, just like Fred Astaire




I wacked it with a spoon, it landed on the floor

I picked up the kettle, and threw it out the door

Breathing hard, I stared at it

With a great deal of suspicion

But that little kettle was nothing but contrition




Last week I asked Jimmy to turn the heater on

To drag it down the hall, so the cold would be gone

Two minutes later he was back

And panicked, I could see

‘Mummy, the heater grew legs and then it kicked me!’




I rang the agent, ‘Sir, I’ll share with you some wisdom

This little house has had it’s share of problems’

He said ‘I forgot to say,

the last owner had died’

I said ‘Bugger this’ and moved back to North Ryde


– Ilana Pender-Rose

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