Someone must live behind my books
A-prodding here, a-poking there
He rearranges everything
All willy-nilly, not a care

If I could just keep my eyes clear
I’d spot that rascal in a flash
And show him who’s the boss in here
He’d never dare to be so rash

But as it is I’m kinda lost
He must be working late at night
Or bloody early I should say
When yours truly is tucked up tight

He seems to want to drive me mad
And he’s not doing a bad job
I think I’m working far too hard
And turning into quite a slob

Maybe he’s trying to tell me
To sort things out an’ get a life
Or taking things way to extremes
To go and find myself a wife

But until that day comes along
Up with his jokes I’ll have to put
And try to keep my brain alive
By ignoring his plans afoot

To wreck my concentration span
With misplaced volumes, tumbling tomes
And focus on less turbulence
Or daydream of more ordered homes