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 pride
Goats stare through
the fence and drool but cannot get inside.
 |
| In the wigwam of sweet peas and beans |
