An old poem, not a new one

I don’t really have a lot of time to write again this evening. I may get to a new poem later, should inspiration strike as I’m sitting in the pub, but for now I’ll just present a poem that I wrote ages ago, a poem that is really more of a song.
When I was travelling I stayed briefly in a guest house in Anchorage. The people who owned the house were bear-crazy. It was a shrine to ursine memorabilia. There may conceivably be a place with more teddy bears scattered around but if there is I’ve certainly never heard of it.
Anyway, this is a more or less entirely factual description of it.

The Teddy Bear House

There are bears on the stairs,
There are bears in the chairs.
There are bears everywhere, there are bears.
There are bears in fancy dresses.
There are bears with golden tresses.
In unbearable excesses, there are bears.

There's a bear dressed as a soldier,
A six-foot bear whose arms enfold ya
In a friendly, velvet-pawed, bear hug embrace.
There are bears in frilly knickers,
Doctor bears and nurses, vicars
And a policeman bear whose bearly on the case.

There are lady bears and gentlemen,
A poet bear with book and pen,
A Bo-Peep bear with more bears in her flock.
There's a bear dressed as a rabbit
And another in nuns' habit.
There's a pointy eared though ursine Mr. Spock.

A singing bear has tenor warbles
That disturb the bear-shaped baubles
That are strung across the windows and the door.
The cups and plates have bear motif
And it's my firmly held belief
That if I pulled the floorboards there'd be more.

Wallpaper, carpets pictures
All the fittings, all the fixtures
There's nothing in the house without a bear.
The boot and shoe mudscraper
The thing that holds the toilet paper
Look closely and you'll also find them there.

There are bears on the stairs,
There are bears in the chairs.
There are bears everywhere, there are bears.
In the halls and on the landing,
Bears are seated, kneeling, standing
Other species notwithstanding, there are bears.