Thursday, January 31, 2013

The Bogey Hole/Golden Gooseberries


The name sounds very ominous,

Though it's innocent I've been told,

But a Bogeyman was a character

In fairy tales of old.

And a certain military Bogeyman 

Is associated with this scene,

A man in charge of Newcastle

Who was very cruel and mean.

One day he decided

That he needed a private pool

And his method of attaining it

Was typically cruel.

He lined up poor oppressed convicts,

Each one behind another

And made them beat the one in front

Brother scourging brother.

I hope he enjoyed his morning swims!

Morisset was his name.

Fancy being remembered

For such an act of shame!

(Watch out for alliteration!)

The golden gooseberries hung in splendour,

On my grandfather's garden fence.

Tantalising in fine fulfilment;

Round and illegally immense.

Illegal because the garden grower

Fiercely forbade our tender touch;

Gooseberries were for jams and jellies;

Dessert delights we loved so much.

But how they gleamed and glowed rotundly

Globular, golden, mouthwatering too.

We children chose to ogle odd ones,

Till growling Grandpa came in view.

Green gooseberries had a very sour taste,

Ripe red ones were always past their best.

The golden gooseberries! Pure perfection!

We'd steal one and leave the rest.

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