There’s something that a husband like me dreads

That they ought to warn a bloke of when he weds;

That’s the fear of Our Gert’s call

And her ominous footfall;

That’s why the Great Almighty gave us sheds.

Before my sheds I’d guarantee fine well

I’d get caught doing nowt and I’d cop hell;

I tried mirrors round the yard and

Tripwires in the garden

And even asked her if she’d wear a bell.

If you want to make your marriage work and thrive

Then you’ll need a bob-hole into which you dive,

Ideally one or two

With a panoramic view -

To keep her guessing I have just the five!

My latest shed it is my joy and pride

And it is by far the best in which to hide

Without windows in the walls

I can snot and scratch my balls

But best of all I bolt it from inside.

So when they wind you up to seeing red

(Who hasn’t ever planned their missus dead?)

If you feel that you could choke her

Or crack her with the poker

Just get to B & Q and buy a shed.