Curiousity A-loft

I don't do ladders, or dark dingy spaces,

I don't like spiders, my heart just races,
I've tried, I have, but I just can't face it, 

My loft is a mystery to me. 

I would love to visit and maybe clean it,  

It's ridiculous to think I've never seen it, 

I threaten to sometimes, but don't really mean it, 

My loft is a mystery to me. 

There could be anything up in those heights,
crawly things, hairy things, something that bites,
Maybe some bats and some stalactites,
My loft is a mystery to me.

The husband is suspiciously fine about this,
He acts like nothing is really amiss,
Fetches my loft-contents with husbandly bliss,
My loft is a mystery to me.

So why is he happy to indulge my whim?
Taking my weirdness right on the chin,
You'd think he'd moan, not just give in,
My loft is a mystery to me.

I've started to wonder what he's keeping up there,
what kind of luxuries he's not keen to share,
Maybe some booze and a comfy chair,
My loft is a mystery to me.

The more I think about it, my mind runs riot,
When he's up in that loft he's awfully quiet,
I wouldn't be surprised if he's cheating the diet!
My loft is a mystery to me.

My mind's coming up with all sorts of ideas,
juke boxes, mini bar, or crates full of beers,
probably carpets and walnut veneers,
My loft is a mystery to me.

Is he having loft parties and I'm not invited?
Is that why he almost looks quite delighted,
when I ask for shoes I haven't seen since the nineties?
My loft is a mystery to me.

I'd love to be brave, find some courage, dig deep,
But that ladder, it does look awfully steep,
whatever he's got up there, I think he can keep, 

My loft is a mystery to me.

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