Matt’s Big Meal Out!

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Place settingYesterday was friend Matt’s birthday and wife Hazel was wondering where to take him for a special treat. In the end she decided to give him the option, leading to a choice nobody expected…

Matt has a birthday,
He has one each year,
I think he’s getting taller,
It’s how it would appear!
Now Matt is a handyman,
No job is too small,
He’s useful for those ‘reaching’ jobs,
Because he is so tall!
Hazel, on his birthday,
Offered him eats and fun,
He turned it down for a burger,
At McDonalds on the A1!

Happy Birthday Matt!
(Matt helps people with their homes in Cambs, Beds and Herts and can be found on 07725 007 454)

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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Youth These Days!

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Summer HeatDo you remember when the summers were warmer, the grass was greener and the days were brighter? I bet they weren’t as warm as now! How many of you remember jumping into water to cool down? Global warming is back and you won’t find me complaining (I did enough of that when the days were cold, wet and dreary in June!). I stopped for a cool glass of shandy beside the river yesterday and watched youngsters doing what they have down the ages and it was good to see that no ‘elf and safety busybodies were stopping them. ‘Vivre Le Youth’…

The miserable old man said:
They shouldn’t be allowed to have such fun,
They should be in a gym or out on a run!
It wasn’t at all like that in my day,
Everyone was happy, bright and gay!
The summers were times of sea and sand,
Except for rationing you just did as planned,
I don’t know how the world’s gone down the drain
What they need is discipline and a shower of rain!

The young said nothing,
but continued to have fun
Enjoying being youthful
In the summer sun!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The Royal Baby!

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CotI received an email yesterday from a publishing company urging me to buy a ‘Royal Baby Special’. It lead me to wonder if journalists had already written two editions, one destined for the newsagents and the other for a collectors fair in 2095! I suspect we are awaiting a tsunami of words, so I thought I’d better get in there first…

Will it be a boy?
Will it be a girl?
Will he wear sailor suits?
Or pink dresses which she’ll twirl?

Will he be a ‘thinker’,
Who sits all alone?
Or will she be a reformer,
Who does away with the throne?

We’ll not have Prince Colin,
Or Princess Tia for sure,
I think they’ll follow tradition,
And have Elizabeth once more.

All this is conjecture,
The first answered any day,
All we can hope most sincerely,
Is mother and baby are ok.

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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Buying Fish and Chips can Damage your Health!

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Hanging BasketsWe’ve all read reports where ‘elf and safety’ has put a stop to an innocent pleasure due to idiocy by a member of the public. Last night I almost became such a person, much to the amusement of a man walking on the other side of the street. Going to buy fish and chips can damage your health…

I went to fetch fish and chips,
I took a walk through town,
The evening was sunny and warm,
Not many folk around.

I felt like some music,
So with earpiece playing,
I wandered happily down the street,
Humming with thoughts a-straying!

I noticed a van tending baskets,
On the other side of the road,
I thought how funny if it showered,
A pedestrian, with watery load!

All of a sudden without warning,
My hair was feeling wet,
I was underneath a basket,
Learning a lesson I won’t forget!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The Caravanner Club Committee!

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CaravanI have never completely understood some people’s hatred of caravaners. I realise they drive at 60mph, they group together like camels and are driven by Mail readers who are called Frank and Betty, but is that enough to vilify their hobby? However there are some, members of ‘The Committee’, who make better targets. They organise the rallies to which keen club members flock at weekends. It is their responsibility to make sure that every rule, no matter how insignificant, is followed to the letter and that the myriad of un-matched folding chairs are placed for the ‘Flagpole Ceremony’ on Sunday Morning! It is they who ordain that all caravans must be parked facing inwards, regardless of the view, and that new members are clearly shown the ropes (or the door!). However I have to admit admiration for anyone who gives of their time for the sake of others so here’s to the committee, Gawd bless ’em…

Frank and Betty are on the committee,
So are June and Kev,
They’re now superior beings,
Unlike Steve and Bev!
They’re on the road Monday morning,
They’re had an extra night,
It’s a privilege from running the rally,
They claim it is their right!
They’re in charge of the tea urn,
And the flagpole too,
They’ve had to collect the pitch fee,
Responsibility construe.
So Monday mornings they’re on the road,
Unlike ordinary ‘vanners’,
Next weekend it’s another ‘team’,
Four rally-hardened planners!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The Magical Cake Fairy!

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IMG_4414As you may have read in yesterday’s posting, (http://www.baldockbard.co.uk/?p=3546) we had a bad mechanical breakdown during hay-making. However the Cake Fairy was on hand and after a short break and some industrial-sized sustenance, the job was surrounded and came out with its hands in the air! Quite how I managed to repair such a complicated breakdown I shall never know, so I’m attributing my success to the Cake Fairy…

The Cake Fairy came to see,
What on earth was happening to me.
She looked at the baler with its broken knotter,
And decided to act (she’s quite the plotter!),
Shut the doors,” she said to me,
Go an have some cake and tea!
When you return to the job in hand,
It will seem much easier than you planned!
I followed her instructions to the letter,
And yes indeed, I felt much better!
When I returned to the broken baler,
The mending job became a plain-sailer!
So if a job keeps you awake,
Listen to the fairy and have some cake!

Dedicated with enormous thanks to my two Cake Fairy’s, Gill and Sheila who always anticipate my cake-needs and are the finest cake-bakers in the land.

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The Madness of Hay-Making!

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BalingThere are times in life when you seriously question choices. In a farmer’s world these often happen around harvest or where animals are involved! I was enjoying making hay this year, the weather was perfect, the crop looked good and the aged machinery was behaving itself. And then yesterday evening all hell broke loose…

It was a perfect hay-making day,
Not a cloud sullied the sky,
The hay lay in rows,
The dust awaiting release,
And all was silent.

The baler arrived in the field,
The tractor gave a grunt,
As the machine was started.
The giant ram said,
“Chunka, Chunka Chunka!”

The tractor moved forward,
The pick-up gently lifted the rows,
The prongs moved the hay,
Towards the giant ram,
“Chunka, Chunka Chunka!”

The giant ram pushed the hay,
with violent rhythmical surges,
Towards the string and knotters,
Waiting to tie the hay into bales,
And eject them into the world.

“Bang!”
A terrible noise in a farmer’s world!
When acres of hay await the bailer.
Enforced silence after so much noise,
The search begins for what is wrong,
No dice are thrown in this game!

The fault is found and it’s back to the workshop,
The welder looks a likely cure!
And then the pressure of breakdown,
Reaches its zenith and illogicality reigns,
And there’s only one sensible answer:

A cup of tea and piece of cake!
(Along with a baby granddaughter’s two-toothed smile)
To make things better!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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Losing Our Postman Bob!

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Postman BobAt a time when the news is filled with stories about the proposed sell-off of Royal Mail we are apparently to lose our postman in a few days time. For our rural community this is far more newsworthy than the pros and cons of public or private ownership. It has been decided by some desk-jockey, sitting as far from customers as is possible, that our Bob is to be removed from this rural round. As far as anyone in the community can tell, he has not transgressed in any way, it is simply the great British middle-management disease of “if it ain’t broke – let’s fix it!” If I were to buy Royal Mail, I would realise that my greatest asset was the men and women who deliver the post, not the vast array of faceless ornaments that sit unseen behind desks. Bob has been the eyes, ears and cheerful daily companion to so many of us in our rural location and we will miss him…

This is our postman, he’s called Bob,
He’s about to change his job.
Management says that he must move,
Don’t care if customers don’t approve.
There is very little that we can do,
So thank you Bob, for being you.

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above


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World Domination (Baldock Style…!)

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Black Bean AphidToday I’m planning world domination. I’m not becoming a blonde-haired villain with facial scar as seen in a James Bond film. I’m planning domination of the slightly smaller world of the aphid! Our bean crop has been attacked by legions of Black Bean Aphids and I’m sending in the hired gun, James Notbond. My agronomist, David (a very tall man who doesn’t look at all like a villain), spotted the attack on Monday during one of his fortnightly crop inspections. A bee-friendly, aphid-specific chemical (costing much more than the finest malt whisky) has been ordered, and Mr Notbond (a little shaken), has stirred and is on his way with the sprayer. World domination starts here…

The Agent was called by Minister Hubble,
“Mr Notbond we are in trouble,
We expect you,
To do what you do,
Before civilisation’s just rubble!”

On his way to the field out of there,
Funnypenny: “please James take care,
Those aphids are mean,
They’re killing the bean,
If you look they’re just everywhere!”

Now that the battle is won,
We can relax and have lots of fun,
The beans can relax,
enjoy some ‘chillax’,
Until they hear the combine and run!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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More Haste… Less Hay Turned!

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David Brown 1490 1With this glorious weather still around we decided to make some more hay. Yesterday afternoon, son-in-law John went off to mow (without his dog!) and I was left to contemplate my shoes! Suddenly I had a good idea! I would fetch the thirty-year-old tractor from the back of the shed and go to turn the hay. An hour later the good idea was becoming poor reality as I struggled to prepare the old tractor for work following its long hibernation. However out in the field my idea bore fruit and hay was turned. Unfortunately the David Brown had not read the script and after an hour decided to break down. I realized too late that it was like entering Old Mother Hubbard into a marathon after a decade of sitting in a wing-back chair. Sometimes the longest way round is the shortest (and cheapest) way home…
David Brown 1490 2I fetched the old tractor from the back of the shed,
I should have fetched a deckchair instead.
I went in haste to turn the grass
Would have been better with iced-drink in a glass
No air conditioning, the radio’s old,
The steering wheel was covered in mould!
The poor old girl did all she could,
Then broke down as I thought she would!
Abandoned she sits over-faced,
Sometimes better to wait, than rush with haste
David Brown 1490 3© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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