Tuesday, 18 September 2007


There's a gnome in our garage, he's made it his home,
He comes from this parish, so he's not had to roam.
He sleeps in a hammock where he gently rocks,
He has a small line where he hangs out his socks.
He only eats baked beans straight from the tin
But as he eats dozens he's not very thin.

He sings little songs as he brushes the flags.
He's quick with his needle so he's never in rags.
Sometimes we wish that he'd go away
So we rage and we yell our anger to vent
But we always say he can stay, as we have to admit
That we do need the rent.


The gnome in our garage has let out some room,
We asked him for details and we said "to whom".
The gnome said "he was homeless just like myself
So I made him a bunk bed, he's just a wee elf."

The elf sings karaoke his voice is so high
The sound of his wailing makes our poor neighbours cry,
As we can do nothing to make him relent,
We've told that mad gnome we are raising his rent.

Jill West.


Remember I told you about that small gnome
Who came to our garage and made it his home.
You heard how he took in that homeless wee elf,
And gave him space at some cost to himself.

WELL! there's been an upset they've had a big split
The elf threw a party the gnome threw a fit.
All the elfs friends came , they made lots of noise,
Small elfish devils those wee girls and boys.

The karaoke was loud and they all sang a lot
The gnome was complaining but who cared a jot.
When the elves started drinking the elderflower wine
The gnome was cheesed off he said "that was mine.

I'd saved that for Xmas you horrible bunch
Now there'll be nothing to have with our lunch."
The elf said he was sorry he'd been so unpleasant
He made shoes for the gnome as a nice early present.

Designed in green leather with nice curly ends,
The gnome was delighted, they're now best of friends.
It's best to say sorry when you know you're wrong.
Then you will keep frienship that's lasting and strong.

Jill West.
Some people (gnomes in particular) are easily pleased.

Friday, 7 September 2007


Moron! Moron! Moron! I want to shout
Although I know that he can't hear.
Coming round the corner on the wrong side of the road
With a phone clamped to his ear.

It makes me so sad that people don't care,
It's not only young men break the law,
We know all the grief an accident causes,
Misuse of mobiles makes my senses feel raw.

The mobile phone has taken over it's everywhere you go,
People heedless of their children as the wander too and fro.
They can be very useful when used to summon aid,
But they themselves cause danger, very common I'm afraid.

You may call me a grumpy old woman,
I can see that is probably right,
But I don't want it say on my headstone,
Killed by mobile phone one dark night.

Jill West.

I wrote this poem after nearly dying of shock when a large
car just missed me after coming round a corner on my side
of the round. Needless to say the driver was on a mobile phone.