Number 68, Proud Father

Number 68,

Proud Father.

When my girl was one year old,
She learned to walk, or so I’m told.
Nothing very special there,
But by two she was quite rare;
She’d started on the violin,
And by three she had got in
A musical conservatoire,
And then at four she joined a choir.
By the time that she was five,
She had been performing live,
Then at six we got a call,
For her to do the Albert Hall.
Aged seven she acted in a play,
In a pretty grown up way.
And by the time that she was eight,
Her acting kept her out quite late.
Her career was doing fine,
When she decided aged just nine,
To buy herself a speckled hen,
Then start a farm when she was ten!

The farm was quite a big success;
Rich it’s made her, more or less,

And though she still goes on the stage,
And fans say that she’s all the rage,
It’s chickens, countryside and eggs,
That occupy her arms and legs.
Her talents may be great and many

But she won't say that she has any.

Doesn't everyone just do

What circumstances tell them to?

And so despite a starry life,
She's now become a farmer’s wife;
Sensible and down to Earth,
She seems to know what life is worth.
And all before she’s thirty three,
So she can start a family,
It’s not as if she had it planned;
But now she’s breaking up the band.

One day of course there might just be,
A bunch of grandchildren for me,
Another generation who
Have her charm and talents too.

© Stephen Saunders

Please read number 54 again now.  

To book Stephen for a rhyming evening:
bowleyfarm@gmail.com or 01428 741212

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