Little Tommy


Little Tommy Blenkinsopp

Lived with his mum above the shop

The apothecary in Chapel Street square

Everyone knew his dad’s shop was there

All around brought their ailments for him to cure

With his drugs and potions to be sure

A busy place most of the time

Spotlessly clean, free from grime

One day little Tommy was sifting through

Items left for dad to do

Included in the assorted work

Was a pair of teeth to repair for old Mrs Burke

Therefore, Tommy thought he would give dad a helping hand

The best chemist to Tommy in the land

Trying to fix the teeth, he glued them apart

He said to himself, that will do for a start

And Mr Wheeler’s laxative pills

The ones that supposedly cured all ills

He mistakenly put into Mrs O’Reilly pack

And put them in the store room upon the rack

Dear Mrs.Burke came to collect her teeth and left

So pleased and no longer without them, feeling so bereft

And returned a short while later in quite a foul mood

But Tommy’s dad misunderstood

Could not explain what had taken place

And tried not to laugh at Mrs burkes face

Her mouth seemed to be permanently open wide

So bad in fact you could see well inside

Little Tommy looked so sheepish and ran to hide

The game was up, Mrs Burke then cried

As he ran, off down the street

Mrs O’Reilly he did meet

Clutching her backside and obviously upset

And realising a hiding he was going to get

I will kill you she cried, I know it’s’ your fault you little sod

Swearing and cursing and waving a wooden rod

As Mrs Burke joined in the pursuit down the street for miles

She sounded like a Rottweiler suffering from piles

But little Tommy was crafty, new how to avoid capture at all cost

As Mrs O’Reilly slipped up on the ground covered in frost

A loud noise erupted from her backside as she hit the floor

What happened next, please don’t ask, I implore

As Tommy slipped down an alley and out of sight

He thought I had best go to Auntie’s and stays there the night

As Mrs Burke with her mouth still, open wide

And Mrs O’Reilly with her sore backside

Went back to Tommy’s dad to try to make sense

Of what had happened, to get cures for their predicaments

In the end, all was well Tommy got the blame

And the next day he had a rear end the was aflame

A jolly good spanking was all he got

But for Mrs Burke and Mrs O’Reilly, an experience they never forgot



Grumpy Mr Brown


Mr Brown lives in Easy Street

Not far from my house, just a few feet

The most miserable man you have ever seen

You always are aware just where he’s been

Upset all and sundry down through the years

Had many a neighbour reduced to tears

His wife a very amiable soul

Sometimes wishes she could disappear into a hole

Having to watch and listen to the entire goings on

Would have had a breakdown before too long

If it were not for little Tommy Smith and his Chemistry set

so read on and the better it will get

One bright morning in early May

Just around eight, the start of his day

Mr Brown was at his front gate

When a neighbour walked by obviously a bit late

Out walking his dog a German Shepherd bitch

Named Princess, who barked, sending Brown into the ditch

A list of expletives followed swiftly

To which the neighbour reacted niftily

An argument ensued, the usual thing

A row with a neighbour had a familiar ring

The dog took a snap at Mr Browns behind

Missed said Mr Ratcliffe, Oh well Princess never mind


Mr Brown, now in a foul mood

Who always claimed he was just misunderstood

Walked off down to the privy at the end of the garden at the back

Swearing and snarling, in a mood that was black

Little Tommy Smith from his bedroom window he watched

And a cunning plan now was about to be hatched

With Gun Powder from last bonfire nights firework remains

And some of his dad’s fertiliser and some Gas from the drains

He loaded it all in a canister tight as a drum

Now a lethal weapon it all had become

So he would wait for his moment to get his revenge at last

For Mr Brown confiscating his catapult one evening past

So a few days later on a Sunday very early I think

Tommy crept into the garden, through the fence that had a missing link

Planted his incendiary device in the privy out of sight

Went home smiling and waited for the daylight

The morning started as usual, with another row, as was the norm

And then off to the privy went Mr brown true to form

Shut the door behind him and went about his ablution

Tommy Smith watching closely in his hand he had the solution

A press of a button, and a very loud bang ensued

Off came the roof, the door and in the nude Mr Brown now stood

His trousers round his ankles, now all surrounded by smoke

A cough and a splutter, Oh dear did he choke



A ragged shirt was lying on the floor

The toilet paper had followed the door

And was now flying up the garden at a devastating rate

Being pursued rapidly by the toilet seat that stopped at the gate

Mr Brown’s face now covered in black dust

Tommy Smith had his camera, a picture was a must

He now had his revenge, satisfaction for all

Everyone rejoiced that Mr Brown had a fall

The sight of this man who had made peoples lives’ a misery at best

At this moment in time not one neighbour cared less

They were so busy laughing at this sight for sore eyes

All that could be heard were the neighbour’s satisfactory cries

That’s how little Tommy Smith became the hero of the day

That unforgettable time in early May

As for Mr Brown he never knew

Who had caused his misfortune to this day its true

The Aerodrome


One Christmas Day morning a few years past

The Fog was quite thick, and was closing in fast

Took my dog Buster, a Golden Retriever, one of the best

To the old Aerodrome a few miles west


Parked off the road, just by the gate

7 am in the morning, did not want to be late

For the day’s festivities, with the family and all

Hopefully a day full of merriment, have a real ball


So out of the car, and off we went

Striding out well, morning felt heaven sent

Fog getting thicker and a real eerie feel

Wrapped up warm against the early morning chill


Walking on the runways now long past their prime

Out in the Fog, it was like returning in time

You could feel the drone of the planes in their time

Feel the presence of the airmen all in their prime


Out of the gloom, a figure appeared

Dressed kind of funny, it really felt weird

In flying suit, helmet, large boots and a jacket

Out in the mist the planes were making a racket


Though startled for a moment, I swiftly said hello

He looked at me strangely, I thought he would go

But he smiled and said Hi, my name is Joe

I am an American Airman, but I guess that you know


I nodded my approval, we shook hands and we talked

Said he came from Kansas, related more as we walked

His piercing blue eyes lit up the gloom

His infectious smile would brighten any room


Said he was married, just wanted to be there

With his wife and children, sat in his old rocking chair

Though only twenty, he looked a lot older than that

I noticed the frown from under his helmet hat


The lines on his face truly said it all

How hard life was now trying to save us all

Suddenly I was startled, by something he said

He missed them all greatly, now that he was dead


He looked at me caringly and just shook his head

Said sorry for disturbing me, it just filled me with dread

I looked straight ahead, dumbfounded at best

Thought I had better go home, I need a rest


As I turned back to face him, he was no longer there

Just as he had come, he disappeared into thin air

I thought I was dreaming, just called Buster

Said nothing to no one, left the situation alone


My curiosity was raised by something he had said

About being in a churchyard and something I had read

About an American Airman, killed in the war

Now I was intrigued, wanted to know more


So I went to the local Library, dug out some books

There on a page, my airman’s good looks

Staring up at me, I found it hard to believe

So more information I set out to retrieve


It seems he had died in his plane that had been his plight

Flying over Southampton, one dark night in a dog-fight

His body was found and buried nearby

No one to mourn, no one to cry


Family so far away, lost forever it seems

Now he’s just a memory, part of their dreams

I will always remember a chance meeting at best

With a poor soul we needed, now hopefully at rest




Clarence the Parrot an African grey

Always had a lot to say

Bugger this and bugger that

Expletitives even worse than that

Where he learnt them, no one knows

But I suppose that’s how it goes

But his owners wanting to cure him of this affliction

Wanted him to learn good diction

So of he was taken to the Vets for salvation

And to a specialist for a new creation

To be a Parrot with a more amenable approach

So off to Professor Higgins for him to coach

Clarence in a more fruitless vocabulary

But trouble ensued got made worse you see

Unbeknown to all Professor Higgins himself

Had his own problems despite his wealth

Liked a drink or two while he was working

Said it stopped him from shirking

Kept him going with difficult patients its true

But with Clarence he had no clue

As the work got harder, no progress made at all

The Professor and Clarence didn’t see eye to eye at all

Getting more frustrated and hitting the bottle

It looked as though Clarence he would throttle


Expletives became more frequent as time went by

From both Clarence and Professor, Oh dear, Oh my

Later that evening consumed by drink

The poor old professor could hardly think

Letting rip with all kind of swearing

As Clarence’s presence became more wearing

Slowly they both succumbed to sleep

Both prostrate, not making a peep

Next morning Mrs McCumby did call

To collect her Clarence, all cured and all

So off home she went so full of joy

Just like a child with a brand new toy

Came the night of the party, her friends were all there

Even Mrs McNulty the town’s lady mayor

Mrs Johnstone from number forty three

And a few others who usually came for tea

Clarence in his element now cut loose

Swearing and delivering all kinds of abuse

Saying show us your knickers to Mrs O’Malley

And calling Mrs Brown old fat Sally

Mortified to say the least

Mrs McCumby said shut up you beast

Wondering what she had paid Professor Higgins for

All of a sudden there was a knock on the door




Outside in the rain the Professor stood

Worse for drink, feeling hurt and misunderstood

Knowing Clarence was worse than before

He wanted to coach the Parrot some more

Mrs McCrumby now decidedly incensed

Gave him a right hander with such intense

The Professor collapsed on the floor in a heap

Totally sparko, fast asleep

Clarence seeing the activities at the door

Let loose with more expletives, swearwords galore

Most, could not be repeated, in this tale

If they were we could end up in jail

Mrs McNulty now mortified

Sat in the corner and cried and cried

But Mrs O’Malley had her revenge it would seen

Just as Clarence let out a scream

Grabbing her scarf she boldly wound

It around Clarence’s beak so he could utter no sound

For the rest of the night he sat on his perch up high

Not able to mutter as much as a sigh