On packed white snow
I walk into town
In search of toothpaste and slippers
You post a streaming video
So that your friends and folks might know
I on the other hand
Remain mute about listening to The Hunter
Once more as before
You bag another Scottish Munro
Whilst for our tea on Thursdays
We have milk-boiled kippers
You sang in abundant joy
At the Portuguese karaoke show
Albeit against a disapproving face
As black as abject thunder
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