A while ago we had an accident whilst screwing one of our lamps into the lamp holder, I felt inspired to put pen to paper, or whatever the electronic equivalent is and write a short poem:
Our lamp filled up with smoke
Poor Thomas has gone and broke
There was the sound of a crack
Now we’ll never get him back
At nearly 70 years old
They’re no longer sold
Because it was a rare lamp I had given him a name.
