(So I says to Paul Simon, 'If you can use it, use it.')

Hello Spare Room, my old friend,

I’ve come to sleep in you again;

I prefer you to the lounge settee

For these times I’m sent to Coventry,

Never knowing what it is what I have done;

It’s no fun

To suffer Frowns of Silence.

In restless sleep I toss and turned

And mulled the reason I’d been spurned;

They say we men are dim as Toc H lamps;

This single bed’s so small I’m getting cramps

And that jab in my back is a broken mattress spring

Which also stings

Just like the Frowns of Silence.

“Fool” she said, “If you don’t know

I shan’t tell you.  Off you go!”

So I’m in the Spare Room yet again

On my ownsome while I wrack my brain

Thinking of what thing it is I might have done

That she should shun

Me with her Frowns of Silence.

And so for six or seven weeks

During which she hardly speaks

And my abject, full apology

Doesn’t fit with her philosophy

So the atmosphere hangs round us like a kite;

No ends in sight

To lift the Frowns of Silence.