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by Paddy Mulhern
They came around and told me
I should insulate my house,
It’s draughty, inefficient
And too cold.
When the wind is from the west
I must wear a second vest
And my kitchen skirting boards
Are growing mould.
They sent a chartered engineer
To examine every nook,
Every cranny, every corner
With great care.
He was less than diplomatic,
When he came down from the attic,
Saying he wished he’d worn his
Thermal underwear.
I must upgrade my old boiler
And insulate my pipes,
Triple glaze the windows
And the door,
Pump all external walls
Full of polystyrene balls,
Bubble wrap and laminate the floor.
But I’m accustomed to the sound,
Of the whining of the wind,
As it whistles through the keyhole
And the cracks,
I like to listen to the rain,
Against my single window pane,
Or a distant locomotive
On it’s tracks.
I don’t think I’ll sing along
With this insulation song,
Suffocation is my direst dread,
They would build me a cocoon
As airless as the moon,
Think I’ll just throw another blanket
On the bed.
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