Best Sixpence Poems
Our Christmas dinner was served,
With traditional veggies and meat,
It’s a roast with the usual crackle,
Plus gravy to make it complete.
And then it is time for the sweets,
It’s a pudding with personal pride
From a recipe of our grandmother,
With money that’s hidden inside.
Now each and all hope and they pray,
The pudding that’s put on their plate,
Will be blessed with a monetary gain,
In the pudding that’s meant to be ate.
There’s picking and prodding the pudding,
Through custard the searchers persist,
But for one of the kids at the table,
A sixpence has duly been missed.
There’s panic and tears from the error,
For the sixpence that slid down his throat,
But young Barry is wisely assured,
That the loss of his coin is remote.
The family all gathered together,
When our Barry was called to the ‘loo’,
For now it is time for the sixpence,
To hopefully come into view.
With a ladle, a knife and a fork,
The search was a family affair,
In a delicate operative fashion,
To see if the sixpence was there.
And there in the light glow of the ‘loo’,
We noticed the head of the queen,
With the tongs now the sixpence is back,
Although it is a little unclean.
Now the sixpence is safe in a drawer,
Back settled from our Christmas cheer,
But here is the pertinent question…
I wonder who gets it next year?
On a cold frosty night the moon hung in the dark sky like a silver sixpence,
Waiting for a bus that seemed to be hours late, wind dried my face I was cold,
While leaning on the stop sign I could see into rooms through lighted windows,
All seemed warm and cosy Christmas Trees glowed and fairy lights went on and off.
Decorations hung from ceilings they were all colours gold, silver, reds and blue,
Black and white televisions told everyone about cold weather outside on the news,
People walked past windows wearing short sleeved jumpers, children smiled happily,
It was Christmas Eve, and somewhere in the background I could hear Slade singing.
In house windows and on mantle pieces hyacinths blossomed the mingled with the tree,
There were crocuses and Dutch and Florentine tulips adding to the splendor of a room,
Best tables were on show piled with egg-nogg and bottles of cream soda and lemonade,
Stockings full of chocolate, crunchies, buttons and a white milky bar hung on walls.
Open fires roared fed by copper coal scuttles mum and dad celebrated with a Babycham,
A glass of Sandymans Port sipped by the grand parents all laughing enjoying themselves,
Then in the cold night air I could hear an engine struggling up a hill to my bus stop,
A green double decker windows glowing stopped and I got on, I silently wished my window
Friends a happy Christmas.
Ask yer mother for sixpence,
to see the Jerry Giraffe,
freckles on his eyebrows,
and big ones on his, Ask
yer momma for sixpence
...by dunno whozit 1950
"This is believed to be a version that I'd furthered a bit more," ... by Poet
Sing a song of gone-byes,
A pocket golden watch.
Four and twenty hours
Staked as top-notch.
When the time had entered,
The Cuckoo Clock did sing.
Wasn't that a dandyish,
As sunset be the king.
The king in his grandfather clock,
Tick tocking away.
The queen mooning the dark hour,
Waxes and wanes at bay.
The stars are in the heavens,
Hang amongst the clouds,
Then dawn came up and did astir,
Awaken sun aroused.
ORIGINAL
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing.
Wasn't that a dainty (or dandy) dish
To set before the king?
The king was in his counting house,
Counting out his money.
The queen was in the parlour,
Eating bread and honey.
The maid was in the garden,
Hanging out the clothes,
When down came a blackbird
And pecked off her nose.
When words were once enough,
To make the difference;
And took me somewhere high.
As if I had heard someone say…
“soft landings are not free”
How I remember the winter to be an honest season
In which I might become a bit more of who I am.
Another thin minute to befall an aged way,
To bring a bright thought to my heavy mind,
As I was broken from my fall.
Until I stumbled upon sound words, in a forest of air.
And then I held it all…
To make the difference.