We were driving home from a club
The stars were shining in the sky
I think she may have been a magician
As big old moon smiled a knowing smile
She put her hand on my knee
Whispered into my ear
And I turned into a lay-by!
© Baldock Bard
Clothall Church, nestling in the hills of North Hertfordshire, dates back to 1350-1370. There are two bells in the tower (known affectionately by some in the village as ‘Ding’ and ‘Dong”). Ding dates back to the 14th century while Dong is younger, dating back to the 16th century. They are used for services and also rung for occasions of national significance (the last time being for the Queen’s Silver Jubilee). The ropes were replaced in the early eighties when somebody stole them to use as a tow-rope when their car broke down.
For further information I recommend this website:
www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=43608
There’s a choice of bells in our local Church
There’s Ding
And there’s Dong
The bells either ring
Ding Dong Ding Dong
Or
Dong Ding Dong Ding
For weddings they are both guests
Ding Dong Ding Dong
Or
Dong Ding Dong Ding
For funerals Ding has a day off
Dong tolls alone
Dong Dong Dong Dong
Leaving a pause should Ding decide to return
Strangely Ding never works alone
You never hear
Ding Ding Ding Ding
I wonder why?
There’s a choice of bells in our local Church.
© Baldock Bard
Mr & Mrs Smith & Mr & Mrs Meek
Block the pavement every week
In all the towns across the nation
Is replicated this irritation
They stop to chat, to moan, berate
The dreadful behavior of youth of late
It never happened in their day
Was life that dull and drab and grey?
Off they move after half an hour
Of carefully executed blocking power
Sid and Mavis, Bert and Dolly,
To arm themselves with a supermarket trolley!
© Baldock Bard
Later, when memories of the vacation are best summed up by the tatty guidebook on a car boot sale stall, have you lived to regret those words spoken on a foreign beach?
I realise that some acquaintances made on holiday can become friends for life, however some don’t……..
We met them on a beach
And realised we had something in common
They were married
(So were we!)
They came from near London
(So did we!)
They were on holiday
(So were we!)
“We must stay in touch!”
We met them the next day
They had two children
(So did we!)
They both worked
(So did we!)
They liked eating out
(So did we!)
“We must stay in touch!”
We met them on the flight home
They enjoyed the meal
(So did we!)
They had bought souvenirs for their children
(So had we!)
They had enjoyed their holiday
(So had we!)
“We must stay in touch!”
We had them round for dinner
After they’d rung six times!
He was a bore
She was worse
The holiday was prominent in conversation
Or rather the only mutual topic
And as they left we said
“We must stay in touch!”
© Baldock Bard
The Baldock Saturday Car Boot Sale returns on the 14th April 2012
www.u-boot.co.uk
Some years ago a neighbour bought some cattle from Banbury Market. Unfortunately he knew little about cows. The selection of cattle he purchased were (without being at all rude to him) a rag-tag bunch of misfits that were ‘bargain basement bovines’. When they came off the lorry, they saw a large field of grass; bucked, farted, and galloped off to test the fences. Unfortunately the security afforded by the fences was low-grade and they just ploughed on through. In the growing darkness my neighbour learnt how to chase cattle. I wrote this for him and I now think enough years have passed for the verse to become public!
You’re not a real farmer
’till you’ve been chasing cattle
You’re not a real farmer
’till you’ve fenced in the dark
You’re not a real farmer
’till you’ve looked up in anger
and wondered why Noah
put COWS in the Ark!
© Baldock Bard
Some years ago, as a joke, a friend gave me a pair of large yellow overalls of the type you’d expect to see when the emergency services are doing HAZMAT training.
It became a standing joke and so prompted this verse.
I wore it in the garden
When putting the weeds in order
My wife thought I was skiving
Lost in the Herbatious Border
I wore it to the ‘Royal’
And to our County Show
Everyone admired it
“That must be Saville Row?”
I wore it on last Sunday
When off to church I went
The Vicar nearly fainted
“That can’t be Heaven sent”
I wore it on the train
When I went up to Town
The commuters tried to ignore me
But I could see them frown
I wore it on the combine
Motorists were alarmed
They thought the crop was poisoned
(That’s not the way I farmed)
I wore it to the bank
When I went to fetch the wages
They looked at me ‘old fashioned’
Did I work for Yellow Pages?
I wore it to the match
Down at White Hart Lane
They thought I was the goalie
I won’t wear it there again!
I wore it in the crops
To inspect the rapeseed ears
The agronomist tried to find me
But I had disappeared!
I wore it to the boot sale
Just to have some fun
Was mobbed by all the buyers
They now all want one!
I wore it down to Sizewell
I paddled in the sea
Looked up and down the beach
The only one left was me!
I wore it to go shopping
I always go (as if!)
A shopper mistook me for
A giant bottle of Jif
I wore it to the doctors
My face puffed like a beaver
He took one look at me
Said; “You’ve got Yellow Fever!”
I wore it on the street
Just to prove I can
A telecomms engineer
Mistook me for his van
I wore it to a movie
To give the folks a fright
They didn’t see the film
Because of the reflected light
I wore it to a nursery
To help the children play
I was asked to leave
The children cried all day
I wore it to a wedding
The bride’s mother was in tears
She chased me from the church
With a pair of hedging shears!
I wore it on a date
Instead of a red rose
I went there incognito
Now everybody knows!
I don’t wear it now
I walk around and pout
The suit is in the bin
I have worn it out!
© Baldock Bard
The temperature has been spring-like for a number of days but could turn colder.
We have been using our new saw bench for cutting up firewood for the log burner.
Years ago, when I worked on a farm near Cambridge, there was an old farmhand called Derek. He always used to say that you got a ‘number of warms before a fire is lit!’
Remembering this saying prompted me to write this, it doesn’t rhyme nor meter but I believe it ‘does what it says on the tin’.
I once entered it into a poetry competition, needless to say it didn’t win, but it remains one of my favourites, I hope you like it too.
I took a walk in the woods with my chainsaw
A branch lay prostrate across my path
I donned my protective clothing, helmet and gloves
To protect me from the ferocious machine bucking in my hands
The sweat ran down my face like lava
Warm number one
I split the sawn timber into cheese-shaped logs
Wielding the axe like an irate backwoodsman
I felt the sweat on my collar
Warm number two
I hurled the logs onto the trailer
The smell of fresh split wood drifted in the still air
By then my shirt was awash!
Warm number three
I unloaded the logs into the wood shed
Trundling wheelbarrow loads up the path
The sweat dripped from my nose like rain droplets
From a jungle leaf
Warm number four
The frost crept in after dark
I lit the fire in the grate
The white smoke curled out of the chimney
As I sat back to enjoy
Warm number five
© Baldock Bard
The Baldock Saturday Car Boot Sale returns on the 14th April 2012
www.u-boot.co.uk
This morning I woke at just after two o’clock with terrible indigestion.
While I sat in the living room, feeling angry with myself for eating a second helping of lasagne with garlic bread and suffering the consequences, this verse erupted onto the page.
“You don’t have to look far”,
my Grandma always said,
“to find someone wishing,
they were in your shoes instead”.
© Baldock Bard
Recent reports by so-called experts have theorised about the diminishing numbers of birds in our gardens.
Some have blamed birds of prey and some have suggested farmers are at fault.
One culprit seems to have escaped criticism.
Having watched our cat, Snuggles (no, I didn’t choose the name), from my office window, I felt I ought to add my name to the list of experts…
A sparrow trilled a trilly-tweet,
perched upon our garden seat.
Struggling to reach top ‘C’ (flat),
failed to spot the neighbours cat,
and that…
was that!
© Baldock Bard
Dydd Gwyl Dewi Hapus!
It’s quite easy to say
Before you think it’s rude
It means ‘Happy St David’s Day’