Terry Ireland Poet Rhyme

Ode To My Wellie Boots

My Wellie boots are battered
and all frayed at the top,
They cost me fifty bob
in C.D. Ellis’s shop.
They have seem better days
but they still keep water out
and that after all is what
Wellie boots are about.

I bought them on leave 
way back in 1962
and with a little care 
I reckon they’ll see me through.
We wandered winter nights
over Billy Bulson's crisp cold land?  
under country clear skies
a twelve bore close to hand.

They’ve tramped may a mile,
kept me dry in a Lambwaths flood
and fifty years later those
Wellie boots are still good.
I shall wear my battered boots
until my very end,
putting them on  my feet is like
communing with an old valued friend.

In my Last Will and Testment I shall
decree they are honourably burned
because that’s the fitting end
those Wellie boots have earned.
They cost me 50 bob
at C.D Ellis’s shop
and they’re now torn and battered
and well frayed at their very top.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

David Smith December 3, 2022 at 12:46 PM Never in the annals of poetry writing has a poem on this subject been so well executed. We used to have a gumboot factory down the road from us that produced something of similar quality Now I am hard pressed to find a pair that last a couple of years. Could you not leave a small piece of a boot for an equivalent pair to be made so that those who come after you can ejoy the pleasure of a well made gumboot (wellington) and splashing through muddy puddles without fear. Best regards David in NZ Terry Ireland December 4, 2022 at 2:16 AM Thanks David - 10 years since i wrote that and they are still going strong. Not used as much as they used to be at my age, but whenI wear them in my mind I'm back with Dad, out in East Yorkshire poaching.

Terry Flood November 7, 2022 at 11:20 AM You could always insist on wearing them when you go to meet your maker. After all, they cost you 50 Bob. Besides, think of all that burning rubber. I can’t help but wonder how many Soupers know what 50 Bob was. Smashing ode to the mighty welly, Terry. Terry Terry Ireland November 8, 2022 at 1:11 AM Cheers Terry - 50 bob was a good amount in 1962 on a squaddies wage Terry

Speaks Volumes November 5, 2022 at 3:01 PM LOL My favorite page is filled with your name! This poem has earned its place as well. A brilliant and befitting ode to a pair of old boots. Only you could make me respect a pair of someone else's boots. Another wonderful poem in the unmistakable Terry Ireland style. Terry Ireland November 6, 2022 at 1:11 AM An almost life-spanning performance from poaching to farm work, winter walking, and just mucky weather work me good old wellies have never let me down. Thanks for your lovely comment. Wen