The Perfect Farm for Me!

Posted on June 27, 2014 by The Baldock Bard.

The other day I found a very pleasant small farm, and it was on special offer! I was so impressed that I couldn’t resist taking a look around. After a very short while I thought, ‘it’s the perfect farm for me!’…

I’ve found the perfect farm,
It comes in a tin!
The sheep are never out,
They are always in,
The pigs are neither fat,
Nor are they too thin!
One, two three,
It’s the perfect farm for me!

The weather is just right,
The crops always grow,
No sprays or fertilizer,
To muck up the cash flow,
The bank manager’s happy,
to watch profits grow!
One, two three,
It’s the perfect farm for me!

It’s the most perfect farm,
That I’ve ever seen,
On my side of the fence,
The grass is always green,
The only problem,
It is just a dream!
One, two three,
It’s the perfect farm for me!

You too can own the perfect ‘Farm in a tin’, just pop along to an ASPACE store or visit them online. Alternatively you can invest a vast amount of money in a piece of land and watch the worry-lines grow!

© Baldock Bard 2014
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
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Alice and the Six-Legged Raisin!

Posted on March 9, 2014 by The Baldock Bard.

Sometimes I have difficulty writing even my own name. At other times ideas seem to be like oil on water, spreading so fast that fingers on the keyboard have to run to keep up! This morning, from somewhere within the damp sawdust inside my head, this came rushing out.

While eating a meal,
Alice swallowed a spider.
She felt it travel,
deep down inside her!
Her older brother,
Sebastian Piers,
was always full,
of bright ideas!

“Some fizzy drinks,
might just work,
send up the spider,
on a great big burp!”
“If you stand,
on your head,
we might coax it out,
with a piece of bread!”

“If we fold your feet,
to your waist,
we’ll squeeze it out
like toothpaste!”
“With a fluffy feather,
I’ll make you sneeze,
The spider’s sure,
To come out with ease!”

Alice was tired
of playing his game,
she yawned and stretched,
and out it came!
Her mother said:
“No if’s or but,
you should always eat,
with your mouth shut!”

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returning for the twenty-second season on April 26^th 2014
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Empty Seed Bag Time!

Posted on October 1, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Yesterday evening John finished the rolling that follows the drilling of wheat and oats. All the seed is now in the ground. It is a time of great relief and all that can be done now is sort out troublesome weeds and wait until the spring when the crop will need feeding with fertilizer. Relief floods the farm…
Sow,
Sow,
Sow the oats,
In a nice straight row!
Now all we need is rain,
So the oats will grow!
Roll,
Roll,
Roll the oats,
Gently it may seem!
Crushing all those nasty clods,
Seedbed like a dream!

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Twenty-five Unconfined Mice!

Posted on May 18, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

There are major drawbacks with living in an old draughty farmhouse. While all your friends gasp at the wonderful wooden beams and rooms filled with what estate agents call ‘character’, you simply long for warm rooms with no draughts and double glazing! Another downside is the attractiveness to small livestock that your period property poses. The little sods arrive, march in through cracks in walls, doors or windows and before you know it you have a plague…

Twenty-five unconfined mice*,
Oh! They’re such fun!
They all ran after the farmer’s wife,
Who threatens her husband with a carving knife,
If he doesn’t shift them she’ll end his life!
Twenty-five bloody mice!

*25 mice killed in seven days with the help of three mouse traps and a jar of peanut butter (The Baldock Bard is still entire but it was a close run thing!)

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The Joy and Destruction of Hen and Stag Weekends!

Posted on May 11, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

According to the press, it’s high season for stag and hen week-ends. No longer is a simple evening out enough, it has turned into a mini-break designed to outdo the last one! Poor old Blackpool has come in for some stick recently having apparently taken over the mantle of Hen/Stag HQ, from Riga (somewhere in the Baltic, since you asked!). No longer is it ‘Kiss Me Quick’ on the seaside hats but ‘Quick Be Sick!’. Every generation has had its Achilles Hell, without which the tabloids would carry no news! So here’s to Hens, Stags (and Asprin!)…

My friend’s not speaking to me any more,
He’s very cross, his bride is sore,
I don’t really know what to say,
It wasn’t only me who spoilt their day.
It wasn’t me, I thought it was you,
Who put him on that train for Crewe!
I thought you’d checked that he had money,
At the time we thought it was so funny.
But I felt my stomach lurch,
When he didn’t turn up for his bride to church.
Apparently we are all to blame,
For putting him on the northern train.
She also says we’re ‘rebel rousers’,
For leaving him without his trousers!
I’m quite sure it’ll settle down,
But until then we’d better leave town!
Lucy Locket, sick in her pocket
Like a fish did flounder!
Tried to stand without support
of her drunken friends around her!
Little Boy Blue,
Asleep on the lawn,
He’s feeling poorly and all forlorn!
Where is the groom that is marrying today?
Still on the bench and far away!
Little Bo Peep,
Dressed up as a sheep,
On her back a large red L!
She will go home,
No more shall she roam
Tomorrow her head will be hell!
Jack and Jill
Both fell ill
On a stag and hen weekend!
Jill fell down
Ripped her bridal gown
And Jack’s still in Southend!
Please do not try this at home, serving suggestion only!
© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above  

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Who Left the Gate Open?

Posted on May 8, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Do we truly appreciate our surroundings? I think not and I am as bad a culprit as you can get. I went into the wood yesterday evening to photograph some bluebells. As I was leaving the sun caught my eye as it streamed through an open gate. Without knowing how my much-used Panasonic would deal with all those things it does, I snapped off a couple of shots. It was only when I returned to the office that I truly believed the beauty of the scene, however the farmer in me posed the question – who left the gate open…?

Was it Tommy from the cottage walking his dog?
Or John with his chainsaw, after sawing a log?
Was it some deer that had been, on grass just grazing?
Or some hesitant ramblers, who were lost from near Nazeing?
Was it daughter Siân, with my baby grand-daughter?
Or a cat after songbirds, intent on some slaughter?
Was it a rabbit dandelioning away from its burrow?
Or a raptor on a mission, chasing a sparrow?
Was it a fox with a mouth full, of my missing hen?
Or the hounds with the hunt, who have lost it again?
Was it Charlotte on Dolly, out for a ride?
Or a poacher with a pheasant, hung from his side?
I really don’t know who it could be,
Of one thing I’m certain,
it was most probably me!

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Not Banbury Cross!

Posted on April 1, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

I have always liked nursery rhymes. Their often deceivingly difficult rhyming patterns, along with pantomime-style double meanings, conspire to catch out the innocent reader.
My six-month-old granddaughter is a delight, in fact had I known what fun it was to have a grandchild, I’d have chosen to have one before children! I took a photo of her astride a toy pink pony. A very amateur ten minutes with Photoshop and an idea of a new version of a classic nursery rhyme took shape. So this is my take on ‘imitation being the sincerest form of flattery’…

Go to the races, Royal Ascot of course,
To see a young lady upon a pink horse!
With bling on her fingers,
The air through her toes,
She will be a winner, her Granddad knows!

Have a great Holiday Monday!

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Baldock Bard

Verse and Worse from the Baldock Versemonger

Category Archives: Nursery-esque Rhyme

The Perfect Farm for Me!

Alice and the Six-Legged Raisin!

Empty Seed Bag Time!

Twenty-five Unconfined Mice!

The Joy and Destruction of Hen and Stag Weekends!

Who Left the Gate Open?

Not Banbury Cross!