Saturday 28th, Day 4 of the challenge. Only 361 to go.
Clearly I survived the trip to collect the truck, we didn't crash, and Mrs White didn't actually get her collar felt by the Plod, but...! I so wish I'd had a secret recording device.
Sunday 29th April. Day five but up to Rhyme number 6, so keeping just ahead.
What happened to Saturday? Well, it has been raining buckets for days, and blowing hard too. Technically it's a drought, but more accurately it's a flood. We are squelching about in mud up at the farmhouse, and the internet connection was down yesterday. I wrote a bit offline and will paste it in below. However, the recording device (lack-of) was solved over lunch. Our friend, Doug has a spare one, and his daughter Catherine recently dropped her iPod Nano into a cup of tea. We have one somewhere that we haven't ever used so a fair swap is in the offing. Doug also had a suggestion to make:
If anyone reading this would like to do an illustration of any part of any of these tales, (assuming someone can show me how pictures can be submitted to this blog) please send them. The best ones will be included and might even be used in any final publication that may or may not be the result of this challenge next year. If the blog won't accept pictures, a Facebook page probably would. Is this the way I should go? Let me know.
Number 6:
Sally.
Sally was a tree at the edge of the wood,
Sally couldn’t smile, but if she could she would.
Sally was the tree where the children played;
But when they went home, Sally stayed.
They climbed her branches and they ran round and round,
She could feel the vibrations from their feet on the ground.
Some of them would carve their initials in her bark,
But all night long she just stood there in the dark.
In the spring and summer the children came to play,
But during the winter they’d mostly stay away.
Sally missed them all the time, whenever they weren’t there,
But the other trees were unimpressed and didn’t seem to care.
Until one day a truck came and out got several men;
They looked at all the trees and painted marks on some of them.
One was Sally and she didn’t know why,
But when the children all turned up some began to cry.
A few days later the men came back
To cut down a lot of trees and open up a track.
They brought in tractors with trailers on behind,
And now you couldn’t say that the trees didn’t mind.
The ones that were painted on were cut down fast,
Then Sally knew that any day could be her last.
But all of a sudden cars were parking by the logs,
And out poured all the children with their mums, dads and dogs.
They made a ring round Sally, hand in hand,
And put a big sign up saying the logging should be banned:
‘Please leave our favourite tree’... they begged the men to pause,
And think about the children before starting up their saws.
One of the lumberjacks watched a banner unfurl,
And realised that holding it was his own little girl:
‘Not this one Daddy’ was what it read,
‘If you need to cut a tree down cut another one instead’.
The men got together and talked to one another,
While the little girl stood holding tightly to her mother.
All the while Sally stood trembling in the breeze,
Thinking any time she could be cut off at the knees.
The stand off continued all through the day;
The press turned up and they all had their say.
The men said ‘It’s just our job, it’s what we do,’
But the children protested, ‘Think of us too!’
Later that evening it was broadcast on TV,
And the owner of the forest could clearly see
That Sally was the favourite of the girls and boys,
And he was quite affected by all of their noise.
Sally stood alone all through the night,
Wondering if tomorrow she would be all right.
Then early in the morning she saw the men come,
And they tied a sign around her saying ‘NOT THIS ONE’.
Sally felt sorry for all of the others;
Some of them may have been her sisters or her brothers.
But the children were happy that their special tree was saved,
And their mums and dads were proud of the way they’d all behaved.
Sally was a tree at the edge of the wood,
Sally couldn’t smile, but if she could she would.
Sally was the tree where the children played;
But when they went home, Sally stayed.
They climbed her branches and they ran round and round,
She could feel the vibrations from their feet on the ground.
Some of them would carve their initials in her bark,
But all night long she just stood there in the dark.
In the spring and summer the children came to play,
But during the winter they’d mostly stay away.
Sally missed them all the time, whenever they weren’t there,
But the other trees were unimpressed and didn’t seem to care.
Until one day a truck came and out got several men;
They looked at all the trees and painted marks on some of them.
One was Sally and she didn’t know why,
But when the children all turned up some began to cry.
A few days later the men came back
To cut down a lot of trees and open up a track.
They brought in tractors with trailers on behind,
And now you couldn’t say that the trees didn’t mind.
The ones that were painted on were cut down fast,
Then Sally knew that any day could be her last.
But all of a sudden cars were parking by the logs,
And out poured all the children with their mums, dads and dogs.
They made a ring round Sally, hand in hand,
And put a big sign up saying the logging should be banned:
‘Please leave our favourite tree’... they begged the men to pause,
And think about the children before starting up their saws.
One of the lumberjacks watched a banner unfurl,
And realised that holding it was his own little girl:
‘Not this one Daddy’ was what it read,
‘If you need to cut a tree down cut another one instead’.
The men got together and talked to one another,
While the little girl stood holding tightly to her mother.
All the while Sally stood trembling in the breeze,
Thinking any time she could be cut off at the knees.
The stand off continued all through the day;
The press turned up and they all had their say.
The men said ‘It’s just our job, it’s what we do,’
But the children protested, ‘Think of us too!’
Later that evening it was broadcast on TV,
And the owner of the forest could clearly see
That Sally was the favourite of the girls and boys,
And he was quite affected by all of their noise.
Sally stood alone all through the night,
Wondering if tomorrow she would be all right.
Then early in the morning she saw the men come,
And they tied a sign around her saying ‘NOT THIS ONE’.
Sally felt sorry for all of the others;
Some of them may have been her sisters or her brothers.
But the children were happy that their special tree was saved,
And their mums and dads were proud of the way they’d all behaved.
© Stephen Saunders
I have returned to this one after reading a bit of The Ode Less Travelled, by Stephen Fry, and attempted to correct the metre, or rhythm according to his rules of poetry. Instead of just redoing it, I thought I would leave the original, which you have just read, and put the amended version underneath. If you thought the first was difficult to read, perhaps you might see if this is better, see below. Leave a comment if you would to let me know:
Sally.
Sally was a tree at the edge of the wood,
Sally couldn’t smile, but if she could she would.
Sally was the tree where the young children played;
But when they all went home, Sally simply stayed.
They climbed among her branches and ran around,
She could feel the vibrations up through the ground.
Some of them carved their initials in her bark;
But all night long she just stood there in the dark.
Springtime and summer the children came to play,
But during the winter most would stay away.
Though Sally missed them, whenever they weren’t there,
The other trees were unimpressed and didn’t care.
One day a truck came and out got several men;
They looked at some trees and painted marks on them.
One of them was Sally and she knew not why;
When the children turned up some began to cry.
A few days later the men in trucks came back
To cut down some trees and open up a track.
They brought in tractors with trailers on behind
Now you couldn’t say that the trees didn’t mind.
The ones that were painted on were cut down fast,
Sally knew that any day could be her last.
But suddenly cars were parking by the logs;
Out poured the children, their mums and dads and dogs.
They made a ring round Sally, hand in hand,
And put a sign up saying logging should be banned;
‘Please leave our favourite tree’... they begged the men to pause,
‘Think about the children before starting your saws’.
One of the men watched a banner unfurl,
And saw it was held by his own little girl;
‘Not this one please Daddy’ was what it read,
‘If you really have to, cut another one instead’.
The men got together and talked to each other,
While the girl stood holding tightly to her mother.
All the while Sally stood trembling in the breeze,
Fearing she might end up chopped off at the knees.
The stand off continued all through the day.
The press turned up and they all had their say,
The men said ‘It’s just our job, it’s what we do,’
But the children protested, ‘Think of us too!’
Later that evening it was shown on TV;
The owner of the forest was made to see
That Sally was loved by the girls and boys;
He certainly was impressed by all their noise!
Sally stood alone all through the night,
Wondering if tomorrow she would be all right.
Then early next morning she saw the men come;
They tied a sign round her saying ‘NOT THIS ONE’.
Sally felt sorry for all of the others;
Some may have been her sisters or her brothers,
But the children were happy their tree was saved,
And their parents were proud of how they’d behaved!
© Stephen Saunders
To book Steph'nonsense for a rhyming evening:
bowleyfarm@gmail.com or 01428 741212
Agent / publisher wanted.
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