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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required If the cupboard under the stairs could talk I wonder what it would say Would it tell me of those who hid in it When there was rent to pay What about the poor frightened child Back in nineteen forty Locked inside it for hours at a time Just for being naughty It could tell of the granda who sheltered inside When bombs landed on Spion Kop Crouched inside, hands over his ears So that he couldn’t hear the bombs drop Does the cupboard remember the numerous times When gran hid boxes of chocolates in there She would go in and eat them on the sly Because she was too greedy to share We used to have a gas man I think his name was Peter He came about four times a year To read our old gas meter He’d open up the cupboard door And illuminate the meter with his torch He laughed when we told him that Grandma Used a match to light a bulb in the porch I remember when I was five Playing hide and seek in the house I was quietly sat in the cupboard And came face to face with a mouse He left a long trail of foil He'd had Grandma’s chocolate for a meal I got the blame and not the mouse Imagine how that made me feel During the war, it was sometimes the fashion To use the cupboard under the stairs For food that was on ration People appreciated what was theirs It was used as a pantry for Bacon, Butter, sugar and powdered egg Some people had extra coupons While others had to beg In nineteen ninety seven, As I’m sure you are aware Harry Potter, young wizard, at four Privet Drive Lived in a cupboard under the stairs Our cupboard is no longer there And neither is the house My grandma has passed away And the chocolate-loving mouse If you still have a cupboard And it’s underneath the stairs Just sit down and think awhile What could have happened in there
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