I’m a little Biro
I scribble night and day
I used to be a writer
But my ink ran out today

I’m what you call a ‘ Throwaway ‘
My ink has all ran dry
My writer’s block has started
If I had ink, I’d cry

I know I’m destined for the bin
I’m no use to them now
My ballpoint is impotent
Where once I used to ‘ Wow ‘

The hand that once directed me
With fancy words I’d write
Has swapped me for a fountain pen
With writing neat and tight

It seems that I’m a ‘ One-off ‘
Useless when I’m used
Given to the dog to chew
Oh, how I get abused

But then my prayers are answered
A child he rescues me
He pulls out all my insides
And then inserts a Pea

My thin end wrapped around his lips
I’m aimed at Father’s Hooter
The pea it travels at such speed
I’m now a great ‘ Pea-shooter ‘

So now I’ve been Recycled
A new career for me
Please excuse me, got to dash
I’m dying for a ‘ Pea ! ‘