John, who is my old man. He
said write a poem, if you can
I asked him, In aid of what?
He replied, It's for the plot
Some kind of show, they're having there
Write a poem if you dare
I tried and tried, but thought of nowt
Of anything to write about
Maybe, veg like beans and peas
Or other sorts of stuff like these
Perhaps the folk who dig all day
Well some of them anyway
But nothing really comes to mind
A subject I just couldn't find
What about the annual show
Where gardeners to the clubhouse go
To show what they have grown all year
Some veggies they look very queer
Or the muck spread on the ground
Manure has a better sound
I've tried and tried but it's no good
I can't write poems, I wish I could
So I don't think I'll bother!