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DONALD AND HIS TRACTORS

Young Donald had got
an obsession,
Thinking tractors are
simply grand.
At first just a fad
Though his mum and
his dad,
They now felt it had
got out of hand.

His bedroom was 
crammed full of 
tractors,
Every model every 
make ever made,
His mum always
cussed
When she went in
to dust,
She said: 'This can't
go on I'm afraid.'

They tried to break
Don of the habit,
Which led to some
terrible scenes.
His dad would retort:
'Why not take up a
sport?'
But the craze carried
on through Don's
teens.

One morning Don's
passion was over,
Said: 'Sorry, I've 
given you grief.'
He went on to say:
'They're all going
today'.
His mum uttered a
sigh of relief.

Two hundred and
sixty four tractors - 
The collection had 
taken 12 years.
The lot went to the
tip
And were dumped
in the skip.
Once home, poor 
Don shed a few 
tears.

His dad said: 'We're
proud of you, Donald.'
They chatted while
mum cooked some
grub.
Dad said with a sigh
As they ate shepherd's
pie:
'You're a man now, 
let's go down the pub.'

First time Don had 
been in the local,
He wasn't the hard-
drinking type,
And he started to 
choke
Caused by billowing
smoke
From cigars, cigarettes
and a pipe.

He said to his dad:
'This is awful,'
Once he'd picked him-
self up off the floor,
And despite wagging
tongues
Don filled up his lungs
And exhaled the thick
fug out the door.

Thirty times he
repeated this action
'Till the bar was no
longer in gloom.
All stood up to cheer
And one bought him
a beer - 
They could now see
far side of the room.

The landlord was
grateful and asked
him:
'Tell me, how do you
do that, young man?'
Don caught his eye
And said in reply:
'It's because I'm an
ex-tractor-fan!'

BY
DARRYL ASHTON 

Copyright © Darryl Ashton | Year Posted 2018

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