There are scurrying’s and scrapings
In our neighbour’s plot beyond
A brick wall shrouded mystery
Builder’s dungarees are donned
Squeaky wheels and gravel grinds
Curious heaving grunts and groans
Planks of wood its understood
Give barrow gangways over stones
My wife stood on my shoulders high
Too understand the build upon
Maybe a shed or swimming pool
Or lines to hang their washing on
Dedicated to Jonathan Duggleby and his mysterious spirit level
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