A poem with an awkward rhyme
Is like a bell, with an off-key chime
The craftsmanship has gone all wrong
Like a perfume, with a hint of pong
Of course our poems don't have to rhyme
But I like it better

I'd love to play the piano really, really well
Or strum away on guitar
And sound like Ralf McTell
But I don't have the talent
And I don't really have the time
So I'll just sit here like I do
Making up a rhyme.

What does Christmas mean to you?
Lots of parties, things to do
Presents to buy,friends to see
Got to get a Christmas tree

The lights are up, the decorations
Excitement grows, anticipation
The turkey's stuffed, ready to go
If we're lucky we may see snow

Get caught up in the Christmas mood
If you don't you're Mr Scrooge
Flash the card, splash some cash
Don't turn up drunk for midnight mass

But let's go back to days of yore
When our god was nature in the raw
A Pagan celebration there we find
A twelve day feasting known as Yuletide

Times have changed but traditions survive
In a slightly different guise
We'll follow suit and do just that
Like the druid and the bishop
We'll put on our Santa hat.

I'm Ridgey the rabbit shooter, that's who I am
I'll shoot your rabbits bang bang bang!
So if there's a problem give me a call
I'll shoot your rabbits but I'll not get 'em all
I'll tell you a story and keep you amused
But if you upset me no bounds what I'll do.

So if you're passing by one day
Be sure to stop and give us a wave
I'm usually here, lurking about
So if I see you I'll give you a shout
I'm Ridgey the rabbit shooter make no mistake
My talk is plain and my aim is straight.

I was twenty years old when I started this lark
I'm older now but just as daft
Cos up and down all day I still go
In the wind and rain and sun and snow
Earning a dollar, earning a dime
On them old thatched roofs where I spend all my time.

I must have done hundreds in that time
Each one a challenge, a mountain to climb
Keeping the water out, leaving my mark
Making the cottages pretty and smart
Earning a penny, earning a pound
On them old thatched roofs where I can be found.

The work is hard, no easy days
No room here for lazy ways
I'm not quite as keen as I used to be
Those mountains get steeper it seems to me
I'm looking forward to an easier time
When I leave those old thatched rooves behind.

The country in Springtime's a nice place to be
I got up early and made some tea
I'm really enjoying my piece of toast
But I wish I was walking the coast to coast.

If there's one thing in life that I recommend
It's to walk coast to coast with a very good friend
I've done it before, I've no wish to boast
I'll do it again, the coast to coast.

Grandma's sick
And she's not getting better
Nor will she

Everything's getting more difficult
Thinking
Eating
Drinking

She needs care now 24/7
Till the lights go out
And she goes to heaven