20, The Limes Poem by Phil Ward

Its ruddy freezing in February our road outside is a sheet of ice,
We live at the bottom of a long steep hill, that’s significant and normally nice,
But there’s a car in our front garden it happens about once a year,
I said to the wife have you seen the Mercedes?
She looked and said there’s someone inside and there’s blood on the windscreen I fear.
I wonder if he’s hurt I said, he’s lucky to have missed our tree,
Let me know when he comes round she said,
And I’ll make him a nice cup of tea.

That rotten lot at the council they’re the ones to blame,
It’s due to the cuts that’s what they say,
The left and the right they’re all the same,
It’s got to go I heard them say,
Then they whipped our Grit Bin away.

Come November we scour the ads, it’s a regular event for us,
We send off for the latest garden designs,
We’ve never seen so many kinds,
Go to the flower show up at Kew,
Look round the shops for anything new,
The latest colour scheme’s based on blue,
For the garden at 20, The Limes.

Our garden’s a complete mess right now though we’re both excited you see,
Yes, we feel for the poor bloke trapped in his car, he’s not going far,
Anyway I’ve seen him shouting and he’s okay,
Emergency services on their way,
Shame he didn’t wake earlier he’s now missed his nice cup of tea.
It’s always the same, they never learn,
Ignoring the sign for the dangerous turn,
Half way down hitting the brake,
What are they thinking for goodness sake?
Too late to rectify their mistake,
And they expect a nice cup of tea.

We’re really not complaining that we’re so terribly accident prone,
And if they’d left our Grit Bin we’d probably have never known,
It’s the little things in life that make our retirement so worth living,
Do we hold a grudge? No not us, we’re calm and so forgiving.
Our landscape gardener loves us he’s clever in so many ways,
And it doesn’t cost us a penny; it’s their insurance that pays.
So no we don’t blame the Council we’re happy to do our bit,
Its natures course, the ice of course.
Let them keep their flaming grit.