In my head I paint a picture
Of what I see in you,
Watch you grow from childhood.
Watched everything you do.
In my head I paint a picture,
I see it in my mind
I have to paint the pictures,
From birth I have been blind.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be
Old Willy wrote this, for you and me.
I wonder what he was on about,
A drunken friend who forgot their shout?
Maybe he borrowed and didn't go back?
Lent out some quills from his raggedy sack?
Maybe he wrote it, to fill up some space,
To be or not to be, is a fall from grace.
Alas poor Hamlet I shall now leave thee be,
He borrowed from you
So he can lend to me!
Written by Steve Boddey