Dear Mr Fairy God Father,
You have no idea of my life,
For all my years of plenty,
Have been full of pain and strife!
Its not old age that's got her like this,
That's not the reason she's this way,
I think she was a throw-back!
For she's like this every day!
(With me)!
For in all truth, I have to admit,
She's been like this every day of my life.
All I had was heartache and pain,
I lived in a cocoon of strife!
So how can I be like I want to be?
Tell me fairy, tell me true…
I can't be nasty it's not my way…
Cor blimey what do I do?
I take the strife every day from her,
She batters this poor brain of mine,
And by the end of the evening,
I'm far from feeling fine!
She's only 4ft 6in small,
But her temper and mouth run wild!
She's always been right and never wrong!
From as way back as I was a child!
She will never apologise to me for this,
No, more she'll pretend it never did occur,
And like I told her…the other day…
‘Mother, you're not being fair!'
So tell me Fairy God Father…
What on earth is there for me to do!
Save from running away from home…
I really haven't a clue!
I should have been a pixy…
I mean to say, I've got the height!
Or rather, the lack of it,
Oh woe is me, I look a sight!
I would sit upon a toad stool,
Singing out loud so merrily,
With me little pixy hat on…
Sitting there for all to see!
But knowing my luck guess what!
I would probably get ate by a cat!
But then again, cos am only small,
It would probably be a rat!
I can't win, oh dear me…
Sugar plumbs what will I do?
I think I'll take myself off to the sea…
And swim right over to you!