Sweep

Sweep

A bird fell down the flue last month,
And panicked round the sitting room –
Raising a squawk and spraying the soot,
Till shooed-away with a gentle broom.
Why did we have a chimney, anyway ?
We never light it !  A useless shaft !
Indeed, where was the bundle of rags
We’d stuffed-up the hole to stop the draught ?
Time to give it a final sweep,
And check it for cracks, and bring in a brickie.
An open fire may be romantic,
But getting the logs is increasingly tricky.
And let’s get a platform placed in the pot, up top,
To hold their twigs,
And let their charcoal wings replace the smoke
Of their rooftop digs.