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!