“. . . putting it in writing”   Nehemiah 10:1

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  Heaven

O’ to wander hill and dale
through glade and fallow deep
where ne’r before has man’s foot trod
and all is bathed in sleep

’Tis but a dream, I am aware
but dreams are real indeed
for those whose soul does constant search
will in the end succeed

  No Master For You

White steed, white steed
your nostrils aflame
no leather to bind you
no stirrup, no rein
Your eyes round with passion
your coat fresh with dew
stampede to your freedom
no master for you

  Willy The Maggot

Willy the Maggot was awfully slimy
when wriggling in dirt he got terribly grimy
which had the effect of making him smelly
the direct cause being muck on his belly
made up of rubbish he found in the streets
nasty town dirt from the soles of men’s feet
dirt that included unsavoury things
like dog turd for instance, so ‘high’ it took wings
but stuck quite profusely to Willy’s fat blubber
forming in layers, congealing to rubber
finally hardening to vile odoured clinker
until Willy the Maggot was known as ‘the stinker’.
Now you’d think that a maggot would be much offended
but not good old Willy, he felt complimented
for the muck on his belly was muck he enjoyed
after all, it was muck that he really couldn’t avoid
But tales have a habit of getting so sad
and this one’s the same, you see Willy turned ‘bad’
His insides went rotten and he was ever so sick
he shrivelled and shrunk and went hard as a brick
he rolled on his back, his eyes went all hazy
he stopped all his crawling, his wrinkles went lazy
he made one last effort but finally sank
and in the end simply lay as stiff as a plank.

His friends rallied round, though him they’d avoided
and getting together his end they decided
should be a grand burial, a splendid affair
with all of his friends and acquaintances there
So the day came round and the funeral started
a stately procession for their dearly departed
a little church service, some meaningful prayer
community singing, which everyone shared
ashes to ashes, time to shed tears
“good old Willy, he stank but was always sincere”
but just as all there were saying goodbye
Willy’s body split open and out came a FLY!

In utter amazement they gazed to the sky
as like a jet aircraft Willy roared by
he soared to the tree tops, he flew round and round
he perched on a a ledge and looked to the ground
“Hey everyone, look!” he said from his high perch
“I’m no longer a maggot smothered in dirt.
I was not dead I was just changing style”.
Everyone laughed and everyone smiled
they danced with each other and shouted up high
“Willy’s not dead - he’s turned to a fly!”.
And so if you see a small fly on your ceiling
remember this story and show it some feeling
don’t squash it, don’t spray it, don’t act very silly
there’s just a small chance it could be our Willy!