You Don't Choose Your Family
Me and Mick were neighbours first,
then friends, then best friends,
and now we’re brothers.
Mum says you can't do that:
“You don't choose your family.”
But Mum also says
that one biscuit with your tea is enough,
that seven o’clock is the perfect bedtime,
and that all dogs always stink.
Luckily me and Mick have a plan.
Early tomorrow morning we’re leaving
and going to another village or another country.
And our families will never hear from us again.
Maybe, just maybe, they’ll read in the newspaper:
Two brothers looking for parents.
Trial period: one year. Dogs: a bonus.
Children not a problem.