Little Tommy
Little Tommy Blenkinsopp
Lived with his mum above the shop
The apothecary in Chapel Street square
Everyone knew his dad’s shop was there
All around brought their ailments for him to cure
With his drugs and potions to be sure
A busy place most of the time
Spotlessly clean, free from grime
One day little Tommy was sifting through
Items left for dad to do
Included in the assorted work
Was a pair of teeth to repair for old Mrs Burke
Therefore, Tommy thought he would give dad a helping hand
The best chemist to Tommy in the land
Trying to fix the teeth, he glued them apart
He said to himself, that will do for a start
And Mr Wheeler’s laxative pills
The ones that supposedly cured all ills
He mistakenly put into Mrs O’Reilly pack
And put them in the store room upon the rack
Dear Mrs.Burke came to collect her teeth and left
So pleased and no longer without them, feeling so bereft
And returned a short while later in quite a foul mood
But Tommy’s dad misunderstood
Could not explain what had taken place
And tried not to laugh at Mrs burkes face
Her mouth seemed to be permanently open wide
So bad in fact you could see well inside
Little Tommy looked so sheepish and ran to hide
The game was up, Mrs Burke then cried
As he ran, off down the street
Mrs O’Reilly he did meet
Clutching her backside and obviously upset
And realising a hiding he was going to get
I will kill you she cried, I know it’s’ your fault you little sod
Swearing and cursing and waving a wooden rod
As Mrs Burke joined in the pursuit down the street for miles
She sounded like a Rottweiler suffering from piles
But little Tommy was crafty, new how to avoid capture at all cost
As Mrs O’Reilly slipped up on the ground covered in frost
A loud noise erupted from her backside as she hit the floor
What happened next, please don’t ask, I implore
As Tommy slipped down an alley and out of sight
He thought I had best go to Auntie’s and stays there the night
As Mrs Burke with her mouth still, open wide
And Mrs O’Reilly with her sore backside
Went back to Tommy’s dad to try to make sense
Of what had happened, to get cures for their predicaments
In the end, all was well Tommy got the blame
And the next day he had a rear end the was aflame
A jolly good spanking was all he got
But for Mrs Burke and Mrs O’Reilly, an experience they never forgot
Grumpy Mr Brown
Mr Brown lives in Easy Street
Not far from my house, just a few feet
The most miserable man you have ever seen
You always are aware just where he’s been
Upset all and sundry down through the years
Had many a neighbour reduced to tears
His wife a very amiable soul
Sometimes wishes she could disappear into a hole
Having to watch and listen to the entire goings on
Would have had a breakdown before too long
If it were not for little Tommy Smith and his Chemistry set
so read on and the better it will get
One bright morning in early May
Just around eight, the start of his day
Mr Brown was at his front gate
When a neighbour walked by obviously a bit late
Out walking his dog a German Shepherd bitch
Named Princess, who barked, sending Brown into the ditch
A list of expletives followed swiftly
To which the neighbour reacted niftily
An argument ensued, the usual thing
A row with a neighbour had a familiar ring
The dog took a snap at Mr Browns behind
Missed said Mr Ratcliffe, Oh well Princess never mind
Mr Brown, now in a foul mood
Who always claimed he was just misunderstood
Walked off down to the privy at the end of the garden at the back
Swearing and snarling, in a mood that was black
Little Tommy Smith from his bedroom window he watched
And a cunning plan now was about to be hatched
With Gun Powder from last bonfire nights firework remains
And some of his dad’s fertiliser and some Gas from the drains
He loaded it all in a canister tight as a drum
Now a lethal weapon it all had become
So he would wait for his moment to get his revenge at last
For Mr Brown confiscating his catapult one evening past
So a few days later on a Sunday very early I think
Tommy crept into the garden, through the fence that had a missing link
Planted his incendiary device in the privy out of sight
Went home smiling and waited for the daylight
The morning started as usual, with another row, as was the norm
And then off to the privy went Mr brown true to form
Shut the door behind him and went about his ablution
Tommy Smith watching closely in his hand he had the solution
A press of a button, and a very loud bang ensued
Off came the roof, the door and in the nude Mr Brown now stood
His trousers round his ankles, now all surrounded by smoke
A cough and a splutter, Oh dear did he choke
A ragged shirt was lying on the floor
The toilet paper had followed the door
And was now flying up the garden at a devastating rate
Being pursued rapidly by the toilet seat that stopped at the gate
Mr Brown’s face now covered in black dust
Tommy Smith had his camera, a picture was a must
He now had his revenge, satisfaction for all
Everyone rejoiced that Mr Brown had a fall
The sight of this man who had made peoples lives’ a misery at best
At this moment in time not one neighbour cared less
They were so busy laughing at this sight for sore eyes
All that could be heard were the neighbour’s satisfactory cries
That’s how little Tommy Smith became the hero of the day
That unforgettable time in early May
As for Mr Brown he never knew
Who had caused his misfortune to this day its true
The Aerodrome
One Christmas Day morning a few years past
The Fog was quite thick, and was closing in fast
Took my dog Buster, a Golden Retriever, one of the best
To the old Aerodrome a few miles west
Parked off the road, just by the gate
7 am in the morning, did not want to be late
For the day’s festivities, with the family and all
Hopefully a day full of merriment, have a real ball
So out of the car, and off we went
Striding out well, morning felt heaven sent
Fog getting thicker and a real eerie feel
Wrapped up warm against the early morning chill
Walking on the runways now long past their prime
Out in the Fog, it was like returning in time
You could feel the drone of the planes in their time
Feel the presence of the airmen all in their prime
Out of the gloom, a figure appeared
Dressed kind of funny, it really felt weird
In flying suit, helmet, large boots and a jacket
Out in the mist the planes were making a racket
Though startled for a moment, I swiftly said hello
He looked at me strangely, I thought he would go
But he smiled and said Hi, my name is Joe
I am an American Airman, but I guess that you know
I nodded my approval, we shook hands and we talked
Said he came from Kansas, related more as we walked
His piercing blue eyes lit up the gloom
His infectious smile would brighten any room
Said he was married, just wanted to be there
With his wife and children, sat in his old rocking chair
Though only twenty, he looked a lot older than that
I noticed the frown from under his helmet hat
The lines on his face truly said it all
How hard life was now trying to save us all
Suddenly I was startled, by something he said
He missed them all greatly, now that he was dead
He looked at me caringly and just shook his head
Said sorry for disturbing me, it just filled me with dread
I looked straight ahead, dumbfounded at best
Thought I had better go home, I need a rest
As I turned back to face him, he was no longer there
Just as he had come, he disappeared into thin air
I thought I was dreaming, just called Buster
Said nothing to no one, left the situation alone
My curiosity was raised by something he had said
About being in a churchyard and something I had read
About an American Airman, killed in the war
Now I was intrigued, wanted to know more
So I went to the local Library, dug out some books
There on a page, my airman’s good looks
Staring up at me, I found it hard to believe
So more information I set out to retrieve
It seems he had died in his plane that had been his plight
Flying over Southampton, one dark night in a dog-fight
His body was found and buried nearby
No one to mourn, no one to cry
Family so far away, lost forever it seems
Now he’s just a memory, part of their dreams
I will always remember a chance meeting at best
With a poor soul we needed, now hopefully at rest
Clarence
Clarence the Parrot an African grey
Always had a lot to say
Bugger this and bugger that
Expletitives even worse than that
Where he learnt them, no one knows
But I suppose that’s how it goes
But his owners wanting to cure him of this affliction
Wanted him to learn good diction
So of he was taken to the Vets for salvation
And to a specialist for a new creation
To be a Parrot with a more amenable approach
So off to Professor Higgins for him to coach
Clarence in a more fruitless vocabulary
But trouble ensued got made worse you see
Unbeknown to all Professor Higgins himself
Had his own problems despite his wealth
Liked a drink or two while he was working
Said it stopped him from shirking
Kept him going with difficult patients its true
But with Clarence he had no clue
As the work got harder, no progress made at all
The Professor and Clarence didn’t see eye to eye at all
Getting more frustrated and hitting the bottle
It looked as though Clarence he would throttle
Expletives became more frequent as time went by
From both Clarence and Professor, Oh dear, Oh my
Later that evening consumed by drink
The poor old professor could hardly think
Letting rip with all kind of swearing
As Clarence’s presence became more wearing
Slowly they both succumbed to sleep
Both prostrate, not making a peep
Next morning Mrs McCumby did call
To collect her Clarence, all cured and all
So off home she went so full of joy
Just like a child with a brand new toy
Came the night of the party, her friends were all there
Even Mrs McNulty the town’s lady mayor
Mrs Johnstone from number forty three
And a few others who usually came for tea
Clarence in his element now cut loose
Swearing and delivering all kinds of abuse
Saying show us your knickers to Mrs O’Malley
And calling Mrs Brown old fat Sally
Mortified to say the least
Mrs McCumby said shut up you beast
Wondering what she had paid Professor Higgins for
All of a sudden there was a knock on the door
Outside in the rain the Professor stood
Worse for drink, feeling hurt and misunderstood
Knowing Clarence was worse than before
He wanted to coach the Parrot some more
Mrs McCrumby now decidedly incensed
Gave him a right hander with such intense
The Professor collapsed on the floor in a heap
Totally sparko, fast asleep
Clarence seeing the activities at the door
Let loose with more expletives, swearwords galore
Most, could not be repeated, in this tale
If they were we could end up in jail
Mrs McNulty now mortified
Sat in the corner and cried and cried
But Mrs O’Malley had her revenge it would seen
Just as Clarence let out a scream
Grabbing her scarf she boldly wound
It around Clarence’s beak so he could utter no sound
For the rest of the night he sat on his perch up high
Not able to mutter as much as a sigh