'Twas the night before Monday and all through the flat
Not a creature was stirring (especially not the cat).
As Nic typed away on a 32 page paper,
His counterpart chipped away at the great PhD caper.
When suddenly her ears pricked up and she heard
What sounded like the musical equivolent of a turd.
It didn't take long to see how this had started-
The roofers left the radio on when they departed!
Nic sprang from his seat in the cozy living room
To try and bring down the offending boombox with a broom.
Alas, the radio sat atop the chimney, so high.
Only an airborne attack could cause it to fly.
So, Nic tried and he tried to lasso the device
While perched on a rickety ladder covered in ice.
Unable to grab it, he descended the ladder
While "The Scorpians Live" played, just making us madder.
Trudging home in defeat, and covered in mud,
We clomped up the stairs- thud, thud, thud.
Climbing into bed, with that music on yet,
I put in my earplugs and made myself a bet:
If those roofers come back when Nic is around
He'll have some choice words for them, then smash the radio on the ground!
*Poem is inspired by a real life event in our wacky neighboorhood.