There once was a traditional Victorian sofa all tattered and torn,
with a broken frame, looking so forlorn;
in the middle of the night with the star’s shining bright the elves got to work with much delight.

They clamped and glued, braced and screwed and saved the sofa from being banished to the tower (at the recycling centre).

8 years henceforth…

All was good for Vic (as that was they/their name)
until it wasn’t (such a shame),
the old injury recurred, they’d taken a beating,
-something had to be done with this collapsing seating.

Off to the ladyshed (definitely a she) for reinforcement, strengthening and a joist or three,
now substantially secured all sturdy and stout,
fitted with modern materials (suitable for contemporary living) there’s no doubt.

A whirl and a twirl of a fabulous wool,
and buttons a plenty, a finish so cool.

Now run lovely Vic, skip and make hay,
– apologies there, getting carried away ….