THE CIDER FLOOD 8.6.89
I expect you've
heard me sometime tell
Of Hawkins Brothers
Cider Well -
Now here's a tale
to cool your blood,
The Lower Townsend
Cider Flood!
All through May
the sun had shone,
Moisture from
the ground was gone
Whilst gardeners
viewed the sky in vain,
Looking for a
steady rain.
Our neighbour's
wife had got quite keen
To beautify her
garden scene.
Indeed it almost
seemed like folly
The way, en plants,
she spent her lolly!
Her greenhouse
full of plants she filled,
Outside each inch
of ground was tilled
And filled with
plants beyond belief
With every sort
of flower and leaf.
When the summer
drought began
You'd see her
with watering can
Give a drink to
each dry root
Like raindrops
dripping down a chute.
Her patience failed
as day by day
The green leaves
slowly turned to hay:
Where could she
find, where could she get
A source to make
her 'pretties' wet?
Her husband in
the coalshed had
Chideock Cider,
poor old lad,
A drink you wouldn't
call the worst
On summer days
for quenching thirst.
In dire extremity
that garden maid
On cider tap green
fingers laid;
Just a turn, she
turned the tap
Apple juice poured
across the map.
Across the concrete
to the pond,
Into the flower
beds beyond,
A flood of lovely
scrumpy went
For the flowers
-
'twas heaven sent !
Among the plants
it soaked and oozed,
The herbs were
first to get quite boozed.
The marjoram jumped
from the ground,
With the thyme
danced round and round.
The greenfly on
the roses slurped
Tomato plants
bent down and burped
The Hollyhocks
just formed a ring
Then did a sort
of Highland Fling.
The frog came from the pond to
see
What all this
carry-on could be.
The goldfish stuck
there in the pool
Thought that life
was rather cruel.
A lady blackbird
on the hut
Was quite annoyed
and said 'tut-tut'
Whilst starlings
guzzling down below
In unison all
said 'Good show!'
People came from
all around
To see this quite
amazing ground
Where drunken
plants could dance and play
And alcohol just
ruled the day.
The Parish council
yapped and went
Taking over, their
intent.
Revenue might here be made
If their cards, they crafty played.
The bosses of the National Trust
Thought drunken gardens were a must
But we all told them, 'No! No fear!'
'You push off, for we live here!'
The Tourist Board or so they say,
Made a bid for this display.
Unluckily there came some rain
Which washed the Cider down the drain.
In future there'll be no such spree,
The Cider's under lock and key.
It's watering with can or hose,
Teetotal flowers and sober Rose!
