Monday, 17 November 2008

The Glass Onion

Two Rabbits were talking in their burrow one night,
“Did you see the glass onion”? “I did what a sight,
much worse than that scarecrow of old farmer Jones
I tell you what’s more, it shivered my bones.”

“What’s that”? Came a cry of despair from atop,
“More frightening then me”? “This, I’ll have to stop.”
Then there was silence and a pitiful cough ,
with shouting so loud his nose had dropped off.

“I say” said an Hedgehog, trundling along.
"What a wonderful carrot to sweeten my song”
“No singing here” said a mole with voice deep,
The dormouse said nothing cos she was asleep

Just then dawn broke and a chorus began ,
“Oh no!” wailed the mole as he swiftly ran,
disappearing from view, quick as he could,
the chorus continued and deep in the wood,

the Blacbirds sang in unison sweet,
with gusto, the day to properly greet.
The foxes, who tired from their nightly forage
heard Farmer Jones wife sing,
as she cooked the porridge.

“Tra laa troll trallee, tra laa troll tralloo”,
A song so sweet as the clear morning dew.
The Sun bursting forth with a song of his own
bid good day to the moon, who had started to moan.

“Is it that time already”? “Oh how can it be”?
And Farmer Jones wife poured another cup of tea.
“The cows will need milking,” a pigeon sweetly cood
"Mind your own business” said a frog, “you are rude.”

“What do you know” croaked a voice “well I’ll be blowed,
just you remember you’re a frog not a toad.”
“Do be quiet” said the cart horse with a flick of his head ,
“I’m sure it’s too early to get out of bed”

And so it continued like it does every day ,
with creatures all over having there say.
The Glass Onion? Well of course it’s still there,
people come for miles the phenominum to share .

Farmer Jones allows sightseers onto his land
and can now take a holiday down on the sand .
With bucket and spade he sits in the sun,
all due of course to a glass On-i-on.

Friday, 7 November 2008

Duck Surprise

Two ducks were messing about on a lake.
‘I say, Esmeralda, how long would it take,
to fly to London, to pay some respect
to Queen Elizabeth? We should not neglect.’

‘Well’ said his friend ‘In my estimation,
it’s much quicker to go down to the station
to catch an express train and in a brace
we’d be talking with Queenie at the Palace.’

Up spoke a fine swan who’d been gliding by,
‘It’s a race if you like, for all who can fly,’
‘Can I come too?’ said a large bumble bee,
‘Say what!’ said a gull, ’that’s a new one on me.’

So they set off on a Southerly course,
promptly at three, plus a galloping black horse,
neighing ‘Wait for me, I’ll not miss the fun,
I know I can’t fly but just watch me run.'

After a while, London came into sight,
but the horse then collapsed overcome with fright,
the cry went out 'Palace under attack,'
‘Onward,’ cried the swan, ‘there’ll be no turning back.’

Artillery shots, lit up the sky,
thus threatening the lives of all who could fly.
Landing nearby, they couldn’t leave a friend,
though nobody saw the Queen what a sad end.

Save one white swan, flying ever so slow,
the swan hss the Queens protection you know.
On the Royal lake gracefully gliding,
Whilst the rest, on the horse, northward are riding

Saturday, 1 November 2008

A hedgehog was crossing
the road one day,

When a car turned the corner
and headed his way.
“Oh dear” said a Cow
lifting her head,
“Quite soon yon hedgehog
is going to be dead."

“No fear” said the hedgehog
rolling into a ball,

so tightly curled tiny and small,
caught by the draft
of the car as it passed,
to uncurl on the
opposite side at last.

“That’s the way to travel”
laughed a snail on a leaf,
if I could move as fast
I’d never come to grief.
“Ha Ha” said another,
with a mouthful of clover,
“don’t speak so bold
the day’s not yet over.”

Just as he spoke,
a blackbird swo
oped low
gobbling him up
all in one go.

A delightful meal,
for a blackbird some meat,

Whilst the other snail
beat a hasty retreat.

Friday, 31 October 2008

I don’t like change.
Why does it have to be?

Just when I’m getting used to things
The world changes on me!!

Tuesday, 21 October 2008

Ode To Less Stress

beneath a dark forboding sky
threatening snowfall from on high

the little Inuk stood

naughty of behaviour he
awaiting now a scrumptious tea
commander of the Arctic Sea
a fire he’d built of wood

around his waist his purse contained

all he needed, he never complained

never his appetite restrained

the fish tasted so good

many should take a leaf from his book
and with fresh eyes at their situation look

for they have much more

than a purse and a hook

to catch their fish

to be satisfied with simple life

lessens the need for lots of strife
happiness then becomes rife
no need to wish

Saturday, 11 October 2008

Yorkshire Waters Lament

I love the
..sound, that
....water makes, puddles,
..........ponds, canals
.............and lakes, streams and
...............rivers gushing,
...........rushing, pushing and stones
...and pebbles,
. in babbling brooks,
.in leafy nooks,
...gently wandering,
...........past bush

and tree rumbling,
...............over waterfalls
................. onward
................ever onward, the sea.
............Beaches caressing,
.........fishermen guessing,
........strollers impressing,
.........bathers undressing.
...........Sometimes dashing,
.............sometlmes smashing,
...............ever crashing.
.............. .Alone. Bereft,
............... .in rocky cleft.
.............. .Surface stabbing,
.......... ...children gabbing,
...... .....crabs a grabbing,
..... ......starfish nabbing.
.... ........The Ocean,
..... .........the place to be.
...... ..........All waters join
...................and shout with glee
.......... ...........I'm free; I'm free; I'm free!

Friday, 10 October 2008

The Vicars Charm

All names used are fictitious – Justin Case

Long ago in a far off place,
there lived a girl called Emma Grace,
her family tree she'd tried to trace
and drew a blank.

Friends were few and far between
without a male upon the scene,
oh how could life be so mean?
Her spirits sank.

She thought she'd advertise the fact.
She needed a mate with lots of tact,
then with him she'd make a pact.
He'd take her for his wife.

At last she hooked the very man
and happy with her perfect plan,
down the aisle together ran.
His for life.

The vicar looked at them with glee,
this was his first ce-rem-on-y,
as he continued ner-vous-ly,
‘Or forever hold your peace’

A voice spoke up from the back.
A ladies voice in a green mac,
"He can't get wed, his wife's come back".
It was his favourite niece.

So here ends this sad, sad tale
of Emma Grace at the alter, pale
and Jimmy Royde, who leaped the rail
running ever since.

The vicar took her by the arm,
she succumbed to his charm,
now they run a maggot farm,
it's enough to make you wince.

In defence of the humble peanut

Humble peanut sitting there,
you really haven’t got a care.
In or out your special shell,
you cause allergic throats to swell.

Some say you are a waste of space,
they’d rather not even see your face.
Chocolate should take your place!!
I ‘d like to give you a fond embrace,

and every pigeon in the world
would rather see your banner unfurled,
bravely deflect all insults hurled,
in defence of the humble peanut.