The Troll that lives across my street is a dandy sight to see,
she has pink hair, metallic trousers and sandals on her feet,
between flowerbed and dustbin heap she keeps a house of green,
far from church bells and their screams, oh how content is she!
through clouds of smoke her voice is gruff, no never loud and shrill,
see how care-free she plods along,
The Troll of Autumn Hill.
Here is where I write about art and about life.