Just like that Hobbit; under the hill,

it’s time to become; Mr Fulfil,

the bell does ring, but I know who’s coming,

so, unlike Mr Baggins, I won’t be shunning.


Thus, I make the bed; and fill the fridge,

and the spare wardrobe, I move a smidge,

so that when they arrive, all will be smooth,

in their temporary home from home booth.


Their enduring smiles, will be my tips,

and also, the “thank yous” from their lips,

emptying plates; will also be a sign,

that their stay has been so sublime.


We will talk about everything and nothing,

a slap-stick symposium, where we’ll cry and grin,

as they’ll have my attention, if they wish to share,

because whilst they’re here, I have a duty to care.


Perhaps we could nurse; our coupled hangovers,

and debate about the night before, of who did worse,

then we will fix our appearances, to be respectable,

and then chow down on our food, at the breakfast table.


Sadly, will come the time, for them to depart,

“please come again” will be my old timey remark,

after they disperse, I will reconvene with my life,

to return to my mundanity, and to my strife!