Saturday, 28 July 2007


We live in a small village in Somerset. Some people have quite large gardens
and keep hens. So

Alan came on Wedensday and said "have you seen a hen ?
It seems to have escaped and I really can't say when.
The children are distressed that it's got a wanderlust
It's decided to go walkies and we think it's gone for bust".

We looked around our garden which isn't very big,
We said "if it's wearing a disguise it might be in a wig."
We had to report that there wasn't any sight,
If we tried to catch it we might be up all night.

We heard Alan calling across the garden wall,
He'd scaled the wall of number three almost heading for a fall.
"Susan's in your garden, behind your garden seat,
I may have to beg your pardon but this looks like a defeat."

Pete went out full of fight to corner the pretender,
Alas the bird had taken flight, it was a real contender.
The kitchen roof from number three to Alan was no worry
But when he came into sight Susan thought she'd better hurry.

So when he tried to grab her Susan flew up on the wall,
We said "Alan don't go back that way" we feared he'd have a fall.
So he came through our cottage with tablecloth in hand,
We so hoped he would catch her just as he had planned.

We can't say what happened next, you must enquire at No four,
You may not be very welcome if you go knocking on his door.
I don't think Alan really cares if she won't come home,
He says "she's a free range chicken, she has every right to roam."

Jill West.

P.S.The chicken came home of her own accord when she got hungry.
It was lucky a hungry fox didn't see her first.

The Beady Eyed BIrd.

We had been burgled in the past, it gave us such a fright
When we got up they'd broken in, we won't foget that night.
The burglars drilled the window frame, it was such a nasty shock
Then they lifted up the latch so there was no broken lock.

We were nervous for a long time and found it hard to rest,
So when we heard the noise we thought it wasn't for the best.
It came from what was once my shop, it sounded like a cluck,
So we picked up walking sticks to give us both some pluck.

When we went in we saw nothing till we looked down at the hearth,
Then what we saw crouching there gave us such a laugh.
The burglar was a large young rook, with beady staring eyes,
When he gave a lusty caw we both jumped with suprise.

I fetched a towel to catch the bird, that's the kindest way,
But he wasn't having any and made to fly away,
He flew once around the room and then made for the door,
Pete chased him but slipped on what the bird left on the floor.

From sitting room to dinning room he swiftly made his way,
What was on that poor birds mind I really couldn't say.
In the alcove a blue bowl sits looking like a nest,
So with a caw and a graceful swoop that's where he came to rest.

It was so simple then to catch him and so to set him free,
He must have been so relieved as I must say were we.

Jill West.
P.S. We now have locks on all of the windows. It's such a pain having
to find keys.

Wednesday, 25 July 2007

Media Madness.

One piece of news brings out the reporters
Just like a dog with a bone.
They don't let the truth spoil a good story
They never will leave it alone.
One piece of news starts a media frenzy,
All the reporters go crazy,
They all say "we've got an exclusive
The truth was elusive,
The facts of the matter were hazy."

One piece of news is the start of it all,
Everyone's given a shot.
Press, radio, TV, all glean from each other,
It all goes in the melting pot.
That vandalised church brings very long faces,
The vicar has tears in his eyes,
"The devil is in some people out there,
The police are quite useless he sighs."

One new piece of news can be hard to find,
Their deadline is getting quite tight,
Nothing is happening no news at all,
It gives the reporters a fright.
But if news gets short, they don't give a thought,
They know that when all else fails,
For a story to keep the veiwers and readers,
There's always The Princess of Wales.

Jill West.

Monday, 23 July 2007

Sooo not Banbury

Sooo not Banbury

She rides a white bike to get to her work
From Monday to Friday she doesn't shirk.
With a ring through her navel
And a stud through her nose,
Her I Pod plays music wherever she goes.

Jill West.

Thursday, 5 July 2007


Paying Guests.

Our daughter Hazel phoned and said "could you do B and B.
A client must go to Greece on business, he's in a quandary".
He has to leave dependants they must have some care,
They need looking after, not too easy to be fair."

I said "we're not to young ourselves and not really very fit"
Hazel said "you can do it, you'll soon get used to it"
We asked further questions she said "it's Sam who is a polly,
The boxer dog is beautiful and her name is Molly.

We said we would take them 'though we've never had a bird,
I knew we would love the dog, parrots are not to hard we've heard.
We were told that he could sing and also he would prance,
That was very near the truth he led us quite a dance.

He sat in the dining room just where he could see,
But we thought his aim in life was really to be free.
Sadly Sam thought my curtains looked quite nice,
He pulled them through into his cage and ripped them in a trice.

Half a pound of twopenny rice is the song that he can sing,
And he really dances flaps his wings and has a fling.
He says so much and makes us laugh we simply must forgive,
We've decided to be tolerant, to live and let live.

When they both went home again I admit I shed a tear,
Especially for that darling dog who stole my heart I fear.

Jill West.

When Sam and Molly come to us now my new curtains are well
out of reach.

The Assasin.

People who know my husband Pete well, think of him as a kind and gentle man.
He has another side to his nature as this poem shows. It is called


Pete strode up to the kitchen with murder in his heart.
It was then that I heard the awfull killing start.
I heard the deadly weapon strike, then his roaring call,
His great cry of triumph as he saw the body fall.
Three at least had fallen before he took a break,
I felt compassion for him I knew his arm must ache.
The paper he had rolled up and now held in his hand,
Was the weapon he had chosen to destroy that filthy band.
He knew that there were other ways he might soon have to try,
But just at that moment he had to kill the fly.

Jill West.

P.S. I hate fly sprays they make me wheeze.