The other day I was telling a friend about finding a gang of goats in our garden and she (Jem a.k.a. Janet Baker) made it into this poem:
He had moved to an old house that was bedded down,
Sitting in a valley, out of sight of any town.
He lovingly created a garden of delight
But it was desecrated, all eaten over night
As down from the mountains came the hordes of goats
And all his blooming blossoms went down their greedy throats.
Every pea and bean and each cabbage eaten too
Just like a plague of locusts were those goats, passing through.
He shouted, cursed and pleaded, all to no avail
The behaviour of those goats was just beyond the pale.
If he could just afford it, a goat proof fence he’d build
But he didn’t have the money and with gloom was filled.
Then suddenly the answer came, lightning from the blue
He turned to his computer; he knew just what to do.
Using all his writing skills he worked hard all night
And luckily a magazine said it was just right.
From that goaty story he made the cash he needed
He bought a fence and so at stopping goats succeeded.
His garden blooms, his veggies now, are his joy and prideGoats stare through the fence and drool but cannot get inside.
|In the wigwam of sweet peas and beans|