‘….and I…shall ne’er be lonely….asleep….with these…..or….those.’

As my voice and the piano faded away, a furry head popped up over the side of a ‘napping’ couch.

‘Blimey guv that’s a bit of a sad’un.’

‘Bing I didn’t spot you nodding there, I thought you were in the garden.’

‘M’mmm, well I thought I’d have forty wags in here.’

‘Right.’

‘So those folk in Hughley are all under the ground then?’

‘Um...well yes.’

‘All a bit gloomy aint it.’

‘Well Bingo, the poet is recalling the friends of his youth.’

‘Is this the same geezer who wrote of Bredon Hill, bells, daffodils and being twenty-one and such like and so forth?’

‘That’s the chappie.’

‘Did he write anything about long lost treats, squeaky balls, chasing buzzers and whizzers?’

‘Um….I don’t think so, not as such.’

‘Oh.’

‘He loved the county of Shropshire, and often wrote about it.’

‘Do you think you could drop him a line and see if he could write something about chasing squeaky balls, I don’t mind if he pops a few daffs, roses and the odd bell in as well?’

‘Um well Bing that might be a bit difficult.’

‘You mean getting the lines to rhyme? I bet you could manage it guv?’

‘Well I could have a go…’

‘Hurrah!’

‘Um…….well….let me see…..

The lad rested his chin on the arm of the couch.

'Across the fields and forest,
Where deer and squirrels dwell,
You can hear the birds a-calling
And squeaky balls as well.

(the lads tail wagged….I pressed on,)

'The sound of Buzz and Whizz by
The call of duck and drake
Will echo ‘round the woodland
From stream to pool and lake.

'Here friends will ever wander
And pals will never part
While the sounds of ancient forest
Resides within their heart…….

　

‘What do you think Bing? Bing??'

The lad was fast asleep, dreaming of……..

I tip-toed from the room and made a cup of coffee. I have a little tune to pop the lines to, so perhaps when the boy awakes, we’ll give it a try….meanwhile………

.....let sleeping dogs lie!