The land of Marmite by Fiona Goodwin

Home home on the range
Where marmite
And beans on toast aren’t strange,
Where seldom is heard
An encouraging word
And Skies are quite gloomy all day
It’s just that it’s January
And it’s winter
And I’ll be sixty-four in February
And I’m wondering if I’m too set in my ways
And do I have the flexibility
The willingness
To bring out sunshine
Where there was rain
That’s my prayer.