Try singing it, to the tune of Angels by Robbie Williams
Angles
I sit and write
Does the anglepoise direct the light
And does it know
when longer shadows flow
Is it wrong or right?
Cause in the night
There are moths that fly into my light
So when I’m sitting in my shed
Moths flying round my head
And my batteries are dead
I’m making angles instead
And through it all, she borrowed me a hammer
A ruler and some spanners, And I lent all her nails
And with an old protractor, compass and a pencil
She learned me how to shape them, and if it doesn’t fail
I will create them…..
I’m making angles instead