©Jan Millward, 2018

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That shallot.

August 12, 2017

 

There's trouble in the village at the annual flower show,
we've admired the rows of veggie's, set out in a neat row.
The cakes and jams look scrummy and good enough to eat,
but Bill has been disqualified and he won't admit defeat.

 

He had entered in the category “six home grown shallots”
and he'd polished up his entries and tied the stalks in knots.
But in his rush to enter because he was running late,
he didn't do a count and had put seven on the plate.

 

After all the judging which was done behind closed doors,
the prizes were decided and they'd totted up the scores.
Everyone came flocking to see what they had won,
and all were smiling happily, apart from just the one.

 

Bill couldn't quite believe it when he saw that he'd come last,
he stood alone in silence feeling quite aghast.
His shallots were just amazing, perfect in every way,
but he had put too many and now he had to pay.

 

He saw old George there gloating, he had won first prize,
he was showing them to Barbara with a twinkle in his eyes.
Bill wasn't in the mood for that, he knew it was just a tease,
but then he suddenly spotted, he'd come first in garden peas!
Jan Millward©


 

 

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