Beware of Crossing Ducks!

Posted on March 26, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

A whole car-load of us were leaving a party on Sunday afternoon when we spotted an unusual sign. We kept our heads down and said nothing until we were well away from the venue. I have heard that ducks can turn nasty when crossed, but had no idea we had to be warned against this happening…

The ducks have turned nasty,
Someone’s wound them up,
Their leader has told the press,
They’re holding a hostage pup!

It wasn’t all my fault,
I was just mistaken,
‘Beware of Crossing Ducks!’
Nearly cost my bacon!

We were driving down near Ware,
When out from off a pond,
A duck armed with a shotgun,
Obviously badly wronged!

“Are you the dirty rat?” he cried,
“Lowlife son of a gun!”
As he chewed on a piece of pondweed,
“Have you seen my Betty-hun?”

“Wasn’t me it was her!”
I pointed to my wife!
“She ordered duck for dinner,”
(I pleaded for my life!)

“Now look here, you @*&%@+$!”
I heard my beloved cry,
“You blaming me for what I ate?
I’d be careful if you were I!”

The duck stepped back three paces,
“I’ll be letting you all be,”
Turning to me he warned:
“You’re in trouble enough without me!”

The Baldock Boot Sale returns on 7am Saturday 13-4-13
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Mind Stripped Bear!

Posted on March 15, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Do you ever have those moments where you half-remember a gem of knowledge? The other day I was talking to a friend and was relating something I’d read, when, in the middle of the sentence, my mind went blank. This was not just a ‘Senior Moment’, but a wild-cat strike by the few brain cells I have left. They stood huddled around a brazier just outside the empty brain in a silent protest. Ever since I have tried to recall any small useful pieces of information and commit them to file, to avoid such walk-outs in the future. However I’m not sure that I have collected much that is of any use…

Didn’t I once read somewhere…?
How to avoid being savaged by a bear.
Offer your book (hoping he likes Rock-lit),
Failing that, tempt him with chocolate!

Didn’t I once read somewhere…?
That Queen Elizabeth the First had no hair,
Francis Drake gave her syrup of figs,
He told her it helped with her numerous wigs!

Didn’t I once read somewhere…?
That farmer’s do nothing but despair,
It’s not true I’m bound to say,
Except for when we’re making hay!

Didn’t I once read somewhere…?
That kids today don’t think it’s fair,
Learning at school is so yesterday,
There’s only a need on computer to play!

Didn’t I once read somewhere…?
That sheep eat less than a grazing hare,
I realise that this could make you frown,
Because this information’s useless in town!

Didn’t I once read somewhere…?
In Russia, in ice, they swim totally bare!
Just the thought and I feel cold,
It must be the vodka that makes them bold!

Didn’t I once read somewhere…?
That books have had it, I don’t care!
I’m past it, gone, a dinosaur,
You know what? I don’t care any more!

The Versemonger!

Posted on March 6, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

I had just parked my car in Baldock when a novel idea struck me: a shop where people can buy poetry as easily as a joint of beef or bag of sweets! What is wrong with the Butcher, the Baker and now the Verse-maker! I could sit in the shop and write verse all day, every day (except when popping out for cakes and sweets!) until I become too fat to move. #Getbackinyourboxreality…

Good Morning Mrs Jones,
What is it that you’d like?
I’ve some fresh Sonnets in,
And Rhymes that sound alright!

The Haiku’s seem a little short,
They’re fresh in from Japan,
We’ve Carpe Deum just for today,
And Epitaphs with life span

The Doggerel is out of season,
Couplets come in pairs,
Burlesque shakes a shapely leg,
With Epic under the stairs!

Let me put that in a bag,
Today’s Verse can’t get younger!
Look forward to seeing you back tomorrow,
At Baldock’s finest Versemonger!
© Baldock Bard 2013
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Grandfather Bard and the Goats!

Posted on February 23, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

I was granddaughter-sitting the other day when she became restless and started to cry. I knew her nappy (diaper for my American readers!) was dry/clean and she had recently been fed. So I put on a silly hat hoping it would help calm the situation. When that made no difference I resorted to marching up and down singing a made-up song. This went well until I ran out of intelligent lyrics and had to improvise as I sang. Needless to say, even though she’s just 5 months-old, my granddaughter is wondering if I am possibly not the best role model she could have…

Did you know that mountain goats,
Keep their cheese in the pockets of their coats?
Just in case one should fall,
They distribute the rounds amongst them all.
In case they find that they are hungry,
They carry biscuits and ironmongery.

Lowland goats are a different breed,
Go to the beach to collect seaweed!
They paddle in the rising tide,
Build sandcastles with stones inside!
Then with ice-cream (rhubarb and pomme!)
They go racing down the prom!

If you meet a goat on the London train,
Be polite and please refrain,
from asking “Could I have some cheese?”
Because a refusal may not please!
Just raise your hat and always respect her,
She’s probably hiding from the ticket inspector!
Mountain goat picture found on QOOP.com

© Baldock Bard 2013
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Trouble with Socks!

Posted on February 17, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Mrs Bard is always complaining that I wear odd socks. I argue that since nobody can see them it doesn’t matter. In an attempt to reconcile this man-fault I purchased two packs of day-named socks. In a rush to get changed yesterday and with my mind firmly elsewhere I realised I had slipped back into old habits. I don’t seem to be the only sufferer of sock-induced-myopia…

Peter Cox,
Wore odd socks,
His wife was beyond despair!

His son Ben,
Wore them again,
When out with an au-pair!

His sister Boo,
Would steal them too,
And complain they wouldn’t share!

But their dog Spot,
Stopped the rot,
And hid them all sous-terre!

© Baldock Bard 2013
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The man who ate time!

Posted on February 16, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

How many of you have ever complained about the passing of time? I know that I’ve used the unseen passing of time as an excuse for being late on occasions. Of all the verse I’ve written over the years, the ones I like the most have a large percentage of stupidity in them. I wrote this while considering the passing of time. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it…

A man I knew,
Ate a clock,
His only comment:
“Tick tock tick tock!”
When he was cross,
An angry pup,
His mum would say:
“You’re so wound up!”

Played rugby,
In the snow,
His position?
Second row!
He was ill,
Went to the Doc,
His stomach full,
“Eight O’clock!”

He bought a car,
In the Strand,
Wasn’t new:
Was second-hand!
At a bedside,
Sobbed non-stop,
Elderly relative:
Grandfather crock!

He took a girl,
On a date,
Didn’t last,
Five minutes late!
At the altar,
With his bride,
Time was not,
On his side!
At the divorce,
Things not fine,
She complained he,
Never gave her time!

Every hour,
Every day,
He would strike,
For better pay!
In the mornings,
On the farm,
Used to wake,
With alarm!

At the airport,
Bomb-disposal boys,
Someone reported,
A ticking noise!
In the street,
Been drinking scotch,
Passers by,
Didn’t stop to watch!

Went to a party,
Drank too much wine,
Tombstone reads:
Ran Out of Time!

© Baldock Bard 2013
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The Very Pleasant Plucker!

Posted on January 31, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

I was sitting in the garage plucking pheasants and letting my mind wander. I started to attempt to recite an old country verse with little success! There was only one thing for it, grab a pen and write my own version…

I’m not a pheasant plucker,
I’m just sitting on this chair,
Plucking at this pheasant,
With feathers everywhere!

I’m not an Ice Road Trucker,
I’m an Ice Road Trucker fan,
I pretend I truck the Arctic,
Down to Baldock in my van!

I’m not an antiques expert,
At an auction for a Grand,
I’ve bought so much by mistake,
I’m sitting on my hand!

I’m not a proper poet,
I’m just writing words in rhyme,
A sonnet here? Limericks appear!
I do it all the time!

© Baldock Bard 2013
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The Twelfth Day of Christmas!

Posted on January 5, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Today is the Twelfth Day of Christmas. All decorations should have been taken down last night to ward off bad luck for the coming year. I thought I’d do something different today with pictures from last year. Today also marks my 300th post since 27th February 2012, I hope you like it…

On the Twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…

12 Plumbers Plumbing
11 Builders Balancing
Number 10 – The PM’s Thinking!
9 Singers Singing!
8 Cheeselets Stacking
7 Inches Flooding
6 Legs a Trike’n
5 OLYMPIC RINGS!
4 Babies Bounce
3 French Breads
2 Fresh Cream Buns
And a Queen celebrates a Jubilee!
Here’s wishing you a Happy and Fantastic 2013.
A massive ‘Thank You’ to those many readers who were with me in 2012 and to those of you who may be new……….
Welcome Aboard, Take a Seat and Enjoy the Ride! Who knows what is around the corner?

© Baldock Bard 2013
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Happy Christmas (War is Over!)

Posted on December 27, 2012 by The Baldock Bard.

Christmas is over and the last guests have left 36 Bard Road, Baldock. Like a faint ring around the bath, the remnants of the season’s festivities lay discarded behind the sofa; torn wrapping paper, a half-eaten mince pie, a crumbly dog turd and a meat-free turkey bone! Following the final departure the silence is deafening, as Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers should have sung: “Guests made this a Christmas to remember…”

The turkey carcass lies abandoned,
Grandad snoring mouth agape,
Men are smoking in the garden,
From the washing-up escape!

Extra chairs from absent neighbours,
Grandma ate upon her lap,
Check that Grandpa is still breathing,
Yes he is! Thank Heavens for that!

Darren’s sitting very carefully,
His face shows signs of fear,
Been to the toilet many times,
Scoffed those sweets from North Korea!

The kids are rioting in the bedroom,
They are leaping on the beds,
One is tied up to the headboard,
ADHD and cola without meds!

Someone’s shaver has gone missing,
The bathroom’s in thick fog,
Peters toothbrush has gone missing,
I saw it used upon a dog!

A ragtag army goes out walking,
Shouted at by farmer-with-sheep,
Returning back all cobwebs blown-out,
Find that Grandad’s still asleep!

Seven dogs have started fighting,
Aunty’s Peke is on the top,
All the kids have learnt new language,
As adults try to make them stop!

In the kitchen war is raging,
Turkey carcass on the floor,
The hostess shouting at her husband:
“Can’t stand your family any more!”

At that moment front door opens,
Uncle Bernard, parked nearby,
All the kids instantly scatter,
“Bad-breath-Bernard” they all cry!

Doreen has a screaming baby,
Her partner is ‘away’ this year,
She is soon going to visit,
He’s in Parkhurst for shifting ‘gear’!

Someone produces an obscure bottle,
Aunty Flo is filled with life,
Within the hour she’s drunkenly singing,
Uncle Bob ignores his wife!

Dan and Jane on blow-up-bed,
On the landing snore,
Everyone (on the way to bathroom),
Has kicked them hard and made them sore!

Pete is sleeping on the sofa,
Along with girlfriend Sam,
The resultant moanings are suggesting,
That they will, they do, they can!

Thursday comes the house is silent,
They’ve all gone and left today,
Every room is strangely silent
‘Come next year we’ll be away!’

FOR THE RECORD:
This verse and the people portrayed within are pure fiction and bear no relation whatsover to the wonderful guests we had to stay over the Christmas period. BB.

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Dolly’s Christmas Party!

Posted on December 24, 2012 by The Baldock Bard.

The office party season has finally slurred to a close. Up and down the land staff have made fools of themselves and said things they’d never dream of saying in private to their cat, let alone to co-workers. Evidence has been stored for use later in the year. On the farm, Dolly the horse has been to a Christmas party…

Dolly went to an office party,
Had her fill of beer.
Found there were no wise men around,
Shouted “Getsh me outav here!”

Charlotte helped her to a singles bar,
Hoping the air would sober.
Dolly told the barman thirteen times,
“No drinksh shinsh lasht hic-tober!”

The barman said to Dolly,
“Why the very long face?”
She didn’t find the joke amusing,
Lost her temper and trashed the place!

So Charlotte hailed a taxi,
Dolly was abusive of course.
It didn’t help when the driver said:
“Is she drunk or just a little hoarse!”

Dolly’s had a good night’s sleep,
Dreaming of carrots and peace.
But this morning she’s hung-over,
Being asked some questions by the police!

© Baldock Bard 2012
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