JACKDAWS.

We live in a beautifull little village in Somerset.There are no
brick built houses in the village. most are built of blue lias stone
quarried locally. The blue grey stone is very attractive.
Many of the houses were built in the 18th centuary but the
thatched Red Lion Inn is believed to go back to 14th centuary.

I like watch the jackdaws on the roofs of Baker street when I
am doing my washing up.In the spring they are very entertaining'
So the following poem.


A Desirable Residence.

"My dear " said Mr Jackdaw, "where would be the be the best,
Now that spring is here at last, to build ourselves a nest."
"Jackie! Baker Street looks super number five's the one we vetted,
Sadly nearly all the others have been securely netted.
If we're going to nest there we must be very quick
Jill and Fred are jackdaw friendly so that should be our pick.

Flagstone Cottage has three good pots, this row has many more,
But most of them have netting now, it really is a bore.
Oh quick! another couple are making for our spot,
It's going to be fight now for that special chimney pot.
Just flap your wings and caw a lot to drive them both away,
You look so fierce when you do that I know that they won't stay.

We'll dance around the top a bit to show our claim is right,
We only want to scare them off not get in a fight."
"Now you've laid two eggs dear, and our nest is feeling cosy
We will raise our little brood here the future looks quite rosy.
The chicks will keep us busy they need lots of love and care,
And we'll reserve this chimney pot for us again next year."

Jill West.


Careless Cone Caretakers

Why are council cone caretakers so careless with those cones,
They're always queing at the roadside causing lots of moans.
They're obedient little creatures, mostly staying where the're set.
Awaiting council workmen but they havn't turned up yet.
Sometimes they get knocked over, waiting patient to be righted
But as I've said before the workforce hasn't yet been sighted.

When you're on the motorway they guide to a chicane
Alas! when you reach the turning place you're in the wrong lane.
You travel quickly ten more miles trying to return
Moaning, sometimes swearing at all the rubber that you burn.
You can't blame those little cone chaps, they really do their best,
So let's hope that when the night comes they will get a bit of rest.

Jill West.