Cup of tea?
London, Paris, New York, Rome,
Are places many folk call home,
Places everyone has heard of;
That I’d agree with every word of.
San Francisco, Sydney, Perth;
Greatest harbours where to berth
Your boat, and settle for a while,
Unless you are a Francophile...
In which case head for St Tropez,
Or Monaco I hear you say.
But there things start to fall apart;
Too many tourists for a start.
Once these were the place to be,
On the Mediterranean Sea,
But like so many other spots,
People number lots and lots.
Roaming round the world is fine,
But one day there comes a time,
When somewhere off the beaten track,
Is where you want to build your shack.
Come and find me if you like,
Though Bowley Farm is quite a hike;
Start by finding Titty Hill,
Then persevere if you will.
Knock on the door, and say to me
That through this rhyme you came to see,
If the kettle’s on for tea,
And sit and have a cup with me.
We have a kind of policy,
To open up our home to see
What kind of peeps knock on the door;
We’ve had some odd ones that’s for sure!
But take care if you find I’m out,
You may well meet my dear old trout,
And she might set the dog on you;
So just be careful what you do!
She’s not keen on rambler types,
Nor folk musicians, nor bagpipes!
Morris dancers are the worst,
She’ll want to know all this at first.
If you come in beige or grey,
Or speak to her in such a way
That makes her think you’re weird, or like
Plane spotting you’ll be on your bike!
But tell her that you like to read,
That books are all you ever need,
And manners are the mark of you,
And cooking food a passion too.
Then she might well say OK,
And with any luck she may
Pour a glass of wine or two,
And find out what it is you do.
Sometimes if you are a winner,
You might have to stay for dinner;
Strangers after all are merely,
Friends not quite but almost nearly!
© Stephen Saunders
Please read number 54 again now.
To book Stephen for a rhyming evening:
bowleyfarm@gmail.com or 01428 741212
Agent / publisher / illustrators wanted.
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