Lockdown Eve
Wednesday night
Lockdown Eve
And the pubs are closing
Everything’s closing again
Everyone’s home
Home in bubbles
Everything’s closing again
He comes coughing down your chimney
Wheezing round your windows
Less than a metre away
He never wears a mask
Put out some pasta
For old Father Lockdown
Leave out toilet rolls
For old Father Lockdown
And don’t forget
He’ll come round to arse up
All your plans
He’ll bring an awful offering
A bowl of bat soup
Maybe pangolin blood
Don’t listen when
Old Father Lockdown says
Come out
Come out
Come out to play
Winter’s coming
Waiting out the weeks
Waiting out the weeks for a month
Winter’s coming
But it’ll all blow over
It’ll all blow over
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