SANTA GOT STRANDED IN FLORIDA
Santa, on an extended vacation in Miami
Heard news that Rudolf’s leg was gammy
It was the middle of December already
And with wine he was feeling unsteady
For this Christmas there was no Plan B
So how was he ever to make a delivery
Now the elves were threatening to strike
So he’d pull the sleigh on his motorbike
Maybe get new management appointed
Blame it on them for it being disjointed
But in the end, he just made it in time
At least now with no chimneys to climb
Route 66ish No 17
John, a young guy from Miami
Had legs just a little bit gammy,
He would quite often fall
When he shopped in the mall
And land with a 'whomp' on his fanny!
We’ve had enough of traveling.
We’ve had enough of travelling
At least by sea and air
The noisy ferry cabins
The crush of Ryanair
Maybe we’ll drive a hundred ‘k’
To hotel or ‘B&B’
For forest or a city break
(For we live close by the sea)
We’ve seen a little of the world
Though far less than our kids
And their kids will see more than them
For that’s the way life is
With gammy legs and short on hair
Now being home is best
Our own things all around us
Our own bed for a rest
We’ll lunch in our conservatory
Gaze out across the fields
Ignoring bumph from Thomas Cook
And all those special ‘deals’
The sparrows on the bird-bath
The neighbours calling by
A friendly chat, a glass of wine
Without a reason why
No, we’ll go no more a-travelling.
At least by sea and air
We’ll watch the world on our big teevee
From the comfort of our chair
John Hanscomb, 2018
Renown
There was a pub in Taunton known world over
And boy did it ever hop, good live music
uplifted the spirits of the motley crew
or was it the smell from the clouds of smoke?
I tell you guys you could get stoned
without ever smoking a joint yourself.
The landlord known as Hopitty due to
a gammy leg was a most fine host.
An eclectic crowd from far and wide
that normally would not rub shoulders
Yet the Wood Street Inn bonded us together
Gays openly welcome, bankers and the such.
All some how fitted into its rare mix
Aussie's made it a port of call not to
be disappointed judging from the repeat
visits, no that is not a Frenchman.
That's Tim he can speak some French
but he just loves berets and baggy pants
not to forget his striped scarf trailing
greatly missed, rest in peace old friend.
Sadly it is closed down now and converted
into two houses. It closed on New Years Eve
2006 and what a party it was. Hopitty gave
me a small police bell from behind the bar.
A fair few of us have now passed on
yet the friendships always remains alive.
It will be a fair while yet before
the memories of the Woody die in minds.
Chinwag Pies
A crowd gathers
Where the poor run wild,
Relentlessly taunting
An innocent child,
Scathing, scalding
Thieving eyes,
Scrimping, scraping
Chinwag pies.
Two a penny
For those that beg,
A clip round the ear
For your gammy leg,
Gossiping mothers
Cannot abide
The bastard child
Of the old dockside.
"Hello sailor,
Empty your pocket,
Got me shilling
For me golden locket?"
Ne're-do-well harlot,
Talk of the town,
Don't belong round here
In her five bob gown.
"What about me boy?
An urchin for sure,
Spare him the price
Of being poor"
Toss him a penny,
Toss him a pound,
We don't want his sort
Skulking around,
Shove him this way,
Shove him that,
Shove him in a coffin
With his begging hat.
The crowd disperses
Back to their lives
Of hen pecked husbands
And drunken wives.
Suburban gardens,
Plastic flowers,
Hair in curlers,
Nattering for hours,
Over the fence
Spinning their lies
With folded arms
And chinwag pies.
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