I wrote this poem/song for a play with music written by a friend of mine about chairs! I was just sitting in my favourite chair one night and it came to me. The music for it is like a music hall song. My friend Michael sang it in the play and I can still hear his voice when I read this poem!


There’s lots of things about this little house of mine I love
especially since we had the improvements done.
It’s so much nicer nicking up the stairs to have a pee
instead of belting down the garden at a run.
We’ve got this lovely kitchen, oh, it really is a treat
with things all round the wall and room to spare.
But at the end of every day I like to sit myself right down
in the thing I’d never change – my favourite chair.

It isn’t much to look at – well, I suppose it’s a bit like me,
springs have sprung and the edges are all frayed.
But between just you and me, you know, there’s more to life than looks
it’s got memories the sun can never fade.
I can’t begin to tell you all that’s happened in this chair
we’d still be sitting here this time next year.
But I’ll just say that I’ve loved in it, and laughed in it and cried
it’s a wonder that the bloody thing’s still here.

It used to be my Grandad’s I can see him clear as day
and he used to tell me tales when I went round.
And sometimes late at night when I’m sitting in my chair
I can hear his old voice yet – just a sound.
Do you think I’m sentimental for feeling like I do?
We have shared so many hours this chair and I
and I think everybody should have somewhere nice to rest
where they can sit and watch the world go by.

I must admit I’ve had a little worry on my mind,
what would happen to my chair when I was gone?
Would the family share it out, you know say, six months at a time?
Or would no-one give the poor old thing a home?
So I’ve got this little arrangement with a man just up the road
and he’s making me a box about six foot square.
And so the two of us will be together in the end
And I’ll be buried sitting in my favourite chair.