Nobody believed in mr Bobbings any more ,
and pugtail  because of this was feeling rather sore .
Why would they no one ventured anywhere near Puggled farm .

Those  that did were up to no good ,
and usually ended up dead or on a block of wood ,
for Mr Bobbings was sometimes let’s say misunderstood.

And so the years went by ,
and it’s tales were forgot ,
and lovers prayed ,
for the years time could not .

But the trees still spoke when no one was there ,
to each other ,
with a careless abandon that brought a blush to the air .
But even so if all  but one of the animals had gone ,
Puggled. Farm still lived on .

As for mr Bobbings oh he was still there ,
Underneath the carpet ,
behind the stairs .
It’s just that no one really cared ,
except Puglit the only one to see him there .

As for the timepiece that still keeps time ,
and when Mr Bobbings dies maybe it will refuse to chime .
And Pugtail still returns back to his sty ,
to be fed and watered as time goes by .

The sparrow flys to save her nest ,
her young need food their open mouths expect !

The flies in humid skies are all around ,
hot sticky  nights are where they are to be found .


But nothing disturbs me more than these is the rolling thunder
above the trees .
Then slowly out of something dear ,
there is a change in the atmosphere.

A pitter patter on the ground ,
the sparrows have flown to more safer ground ,
my bones start to shiver as ever they know ,
the pouring rains ,
the winds that blow ,
then after all the rains have eased ,
a sparrows song can be heard above the trees .

Alone she left him dying as if a thousand daggers were there .
Alone he felt her breathing but he knew she wasn’t there .
Alone he stood as if for hours wondering where she had gone ?
then realised it must have been the flowers ,
O where did he go wrong ?

A single candel stick now lies flickering upon a lump of wax ,
where there once was a table and on that was a cat !

But the cat left when in hot pursuit of a mouse ,
which kept him thinking where on earth did she go ?

Now the dinner Theodore had set before her covered the room ,
from head to toe .

So Theodore as charming as men go ,
set off in hot persuit of the woman who he loved ,
through the door ,
she left her glass slipper on the floor ,
down the steps ,
and galloped away .

So to this day he still could not find her ,
and that was many moons ago .

So if you hear horses hoofs and neighing when you come to stay ,
Just remember Theodore isn’t far away .

Beyond the realms of fortuity,
far beneath the realms of death ,
far above what you might call misfortune ,
a woman called serendipity called on me to dance .



Or was it by
fate that I should meet her ,
Or what ever you call love ,
or even Gods will that I should greet her ,
Or forever be outa luck !

But if luck or chance could not save her ,
when she rode outa town ,
her silver spurs a jangling ,
against the evening sundown .

Now lying dead behind her were six ugly. Young  men ,
so I guess serendipity and I were riding  
high again .

So if you ever meet her ,
after we have rode our separate  ways ,
be sure she meets you for a dance ,
If not bring a shovel for you’re grave .

A silent white rose so enter the daffodils of spring ,
a single white rose O to be in love again .

First love on a train,
will I ever see you again ?
The whistle blows the train pulls out ,
she’s left the train I’m outa luck !

And there she is just like a dream ,
the ******* the train so enters the first scene .

Of boy and girl “ can I have this first dance “
for nothing else is left to chance .

Daffodils in spring ,
a single white rose ,
all because I saw her on a train ,
when the doors were  all closed .

Her eyes were sunken into the night ,
how once they lit up so bright ,
like the light of a thousand candles,
lifted high on a chandelier.

Once she glowed with an   inner light ,
of innocence cast into the night
a love that shone like a burning hue ,

and lived without a care .
She dressed in what her mother gave her ,
her ever loving mother though could not save her ,
for her mother left ,
when she fell for a sailor .
so then she dressed for whoever she liked
and so she came to answer to what ever name he gave her . fr.    Touted from dawn till  twilight ,
her eyes grew dim and their  lights burnt out .
Then one day she gave birth to her son ,
killed by her own hands ,
for it had to be done .
Cast aside ,
with not even a welfare state to provide,
Into a paupers  grave .
Her mother now all skin and bone
for morning afternoon breakfast  lunch ,
and a sip of gin ,
for every grin .

So she tied a ribbon to her hair ,
Which once was neat now ***** and black ,
But at least she looked pritty ,
for when the men came back .

So they dressed her in her favourite gown ,
with a daisy and a ribbon around her waste and hair ,
a nameless grave an empty mouth ,
but at last a. beautiful saviour ,
to meet her there .

I walked all alone in a garden where all around flowers started to bloom .
They open their eyes towards me ,
staring as if without a care ,
not even bothering if I had seen them there .

I walked further into my garden ,
a statue of a lady greeted me there ,
her eyes were far from me ,
as if I hadn’t seen her there .

Then when she thought I wasn’t looking ,
she turned to move her head ,
just enough so to see me ,
then quickly turned  away instead .


So I sat down to eat an apple to see what she would do ?
But after all it was a statue and they never look at you ?

So after a feeling of paranoia for  that’s what I felt I had become ,
the clouds started whispering to the noon day sun .

Then I had another apple and sat quietly on a bench ,
so the trees and their branches could talk-quietly amugst themselves ,
but they stayed silent ,
and all of a sudden I was left all alone ...
and all by myself ,
I set off towards home .