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 TV Blues
I have kicked the box around the garden
Banged my head against a wall
Threatened physical and mortal violence
Cursed and sworn through it all
The instruction book is written
To loosely use the word
In a phraseology so obscure
Frankly it's absurd
Now it sits there grinning at me
As I sit and fume and shout
Threatening darkly to throw
The blooming thing right out
But we have a little progress
After three hours we can see
Some of those amazing programmes
Allegedly available on our new TV
The recorder is still a mystery
But I've quit while I'm ahead
And mustering all my dignity
Retired muttering to my bed
Tomorrow is another day
And if it won't work for me
I'll call my youngest son
To invite him down for tea
And we'll curse and swear together
It's what we fellows do
But I bet the thing gets working
With combined efforts of we two
And son will say please dad
Please don't touch it any more
For I seem to have a reputation
As a technical dinosaur
Abject apologies to the wife
When at last we've got it right
For my ranting and my cursing
Which rather ruined her night
Missing all those lovely programmes
She was so  hoping to see
Through our new recorder
And digital TV
Oh how I yearn for the old days
Sadly so long long gone
When we only had two channels
And just one switch for off and on








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