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The Snowman

There’s a strange man

In my garden

With top hat and tails

He is looking rather pale

He’s been standing there

For some time now

Just standing and staring

And looking all around

He very often smiles

But doesn’t often frown

The squirrels and the fox’s

All adore him

As they pass by

He lifts his hand

To wave at them

And smiles to say goodnight

Thomas and Gillian Sims

Autumn and Winter


The nights are drawing in now
You can feel a chill in the air
The winds are getting colder
As it whistles through your hair

The leaves are turning golden
Still clinging to the trees
But they don’t stand a chance
Brought down by a gentle breeze

The frosts will soon be upon us
Spreading its carpet of white
Covering all before it
A phantom of the night

Then the fog descends in silence
See it swirling all around
Covering everything it touches
Clinging to the ground

Most of the birds have migrated
A squirrel building its nest
Scurrying around to fill its larder
Looking forward to the well earned rest

As we drift out of autumns clasp
Winter will take the stage
Bringing the north wind and snow
With blizzards and winter rage

When it’s all over and done with
We look forward to better things
For we know that nature is stirring
A breath taking beauty she brings

Malcolm G Bradshaw

Grandmother’s stew pot



Granddad’s sitting in his rocking chair

Sipping whiskey from an old stone jar

Chewing tobacco and staring at anyone

who dare come near,

Grandmother chewing a piece of straw

Whilst standing by the kitchen door

Stewing pot bubbling nice and hot

It’s squirrel stew that’s in the pot,

Musket Hangs on the fire-place wall

The one that granddad used in the civil war,

Granddad can still hit the spot

Even with a single shot,

Squirrel and rabbit, in the pot

Nice and juicy really hot

That is what’s in grandmother’s stew pot

Thomas Sims

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