POETRY
TALLY HO COTTAGE:
‘A pore old woman had a dog,
And it was always barkin,
Its name was Poppet, and of course
The woman’s name was Larkin.
She sniffed and coughed the whole day long,
And said the wind was nippin,
And when the dog got in her way
She handed out a whippin.
Her husband shuffled in an out,
He wasn’t very supple,
They weren’t at all what you might call
A really pleasant couple!’
The Mystery Of The Hidden House
In this book, although Daisy declares:
“Ern and his pomes and portry!” giggled Daisy. “I wish I could get hold of that portry
book—I’d write a poem in it that would make Old Clear-Orf sit up!”
“Quite an idea!” said Fatty, and put it away in his mind for future use.
It's Fatty as usual that steals the show:
“Well—you never know,” said Fatty, trying to look modest. “I remember having to write a
poem—er, I mean pome—for class one day, and forgetting all about it till the master pounced
on me and asked for mine. I looked in my desk, but of course it wasn’t there because I had
forgotten to write one. So I just said ‘Sorry, sir, it seems to be mislaid—but I’ll recite it if you
like.’ And I stood up and recited six verses straight off out of my head. What’s more, I got top
marks for it.”
“I don’t believe you,” said Pip.
“Well, I’ll recite it for you now if you like,” said Fatty, indignantly, but the others wouldn’t
let him.
“There’s a mystery a-moving
Away on Christmas Hill,
Where kidnappers and robbers
Are waiting for the kill.
But when kidnappers are napping
And robbers are asleep,
We’ll pounce on them together
And knock them in a heap!”
He began to write. As usual the words flowed out straight away. No puzzling his brains for
Fatty, no searching for a rhyme! It just came out like water from a tap.
TO MY DEAR UNCLE
“Oh how I love thee, Uncle dear,
Although thine eyes like frogs’ appear,
Thy body is so fat and round,
Thy heavy footsteps shake the ground.
Thy temper is so sweet and mild
’Twould frighten e’en the smallest child.
And when thou speakest, people say,
‘Now did we hear a donkey bray?’
Dear Uncle, how . . .”
BANSHEE TOWERS
And who could possibly ever forget:
“Well—it’s your pome, isn’t it?” said Fatty cheerfully. “I mean—I only just went on with
it. I think you work too hard at your pomes, Ern. You just want to throw them off, so to speak.
Like this—
“The little Princess Bongawee
Was very small and sweet,
A princess from her pretty head
Down to her tiny feet.
She had a servant, Ern by name,
A very stout young fella,
Who simply loved to shield her with
A dazzling . . .”
“STATE UMBRELLA!” yelled every one, except Ern. There were more yells and laughs. Ern
didn’t join in. He simply couldn’t understand how Fatty could be so clever. Fatty gave him a
thump.
