I Hate the Doonas Over Here!

I hate the doonas!

I hate the doonas over here. I hate the doonas, do you hear!

They’re long and thin or short and stout and bits of me keep hanging out.

But not of course in Italy, my second home, where I love to be;

But here, it’s a case of infamy; these doonas all have it in for me!

There’s two doonas to each bed you see & one of these is just for me.

No sharing here, how good is this, all for me- what utter bliss.

But I really do not know just how this thing is going to go.

I start off with it looking great, all neat & tidy, plump & straight.

I climb in carefully-here we go, all covered up and not on show.

But then I get it in a mess, and now it’s covering less & less

It wraps itself around my head or ends up sliding off the bed.

I put it back & set it straight; again I’ve got it looking great

I put my legs back underneath but now I’m looking like a wreath

Because instead of being under I’ve got myself all wrapped asunder

My body now is in the case & all that’s sticking out’s my face!

I start again to get it right- God, I could be doing this all night.

So in the end I just give in & pull the thing up to my chin,

But then my feet are hanging out and off we go all twisted out

It’s just a right old merry-go-round because the secret I’ve not found

To keeping doonas on the bed, not wrapped around my bloody head,

Or falling off onto the floor, or over Bill, or out the door.

I hate the doonas over here! I hate them, hate them do you hear

And when I’m home, back in my bed, without the doona round my head

I’ll give a blissful little sigh and go to sleep... goodnight!  Goodbye.