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There are bottles and fag ends and condoms and half-eaten sausages too,
The house is in need of a clean up, which Nanny refuses to do;
And Piglet is still feeling fragile, while Pooh’s in a comatose snooze.
So it’s me who is stuck with the housework after the party at Pooh’s.

There’s honey all over the sofa and vol au vents blocking the loo,
But clearing up mess while hung over is the last thing they’re able to do.
It is somebody’s turn, says the rota, but a wine stain has covered up whose.
So I am the one in the hot seat after the party at Pooh’s.

The forest is quiet and deserted. Last night was one hell of a do.
Eeyore and Tigger are missing and there’s no sound from Kanga and Roo,
And Wol can’t do more than just mumble some drunken To-Wits and To-Woos.
So I’ve no hope of any assistance after the party at Pooh’s.

But a thought has just struck me this morning, and it’s probably long overdue,
That it's high time I cleared out my Nursery. After all, I am now twenty-two,
And if Father would only stop writing we could give all my toys to some zoos.
So no-one would have to do housework, since there’d be no more parties at Pooh’s.