2003 Verses
We’ve sold our house
We’ve bought one up near Leeds
We’ve tidied up the garden
So now there are no weeds
We’ve sold it to a couple
With a baby on the way
Thankfully when they visited
The neighbours were away
We’re off now to the boot sale
To get rid of what we can
So when we leave to go up North
We’ll hire a smaller van!
Community charge through the roof,
Services less and less,
No-one takes the blame,
For getting us in this mess.
Yet what is this? They expect us,
To vote for them once more,
Oh dear! They must be joking,
Don’t they know the score?
I’ve got a new telly programme,
Will be a hit – no fear,
We’ll sent them to an island:
‘Get Them Out of Here!’
Mary had some credit cards
Went on a spending spree
Discovered in a very short while
That nothing is for free
She consolidated repayments
A single repayment now
The only worry in her life
I’ve got to pay but how?
She took a pitch at the boot sale
Filled up a pasting table
Paid the monthly payment
She’s happy now she’s able
They’re closing the road (16th of June)
That leads to the car boot sale
We won’t be closing for 5 weeks
Your access will not fail
We’ve been on the phone to Highways
To give a simple warning
Don’t you dare
It’s just not fair
To disrupt our Saturday morning!
Oh to be in Baldock
Now that summer’s here
The brollies and the rain hats
Every week appear!
I wander round the boot sale
A few quid in my pocket
A pot plant and a budgie cage
I replace that missing socket
Folk always moan and exasperate
About everything, I fear
Oh to be at the boot sale
Now that summer’s here!
There was an old woman
Who lived in a shoe
She had so many bills
She knew what to do
She took at pitch at the boot sale
In beautiful sunny weather
She paid off all her bills
Re-soled her shoe in leather!
Not now, maybe later
If the Chancellor has his way
The Euro will be with us
The pound has had its day
We’re already ruled by Europe
“Do zis do zat” they say
Tony enforces changes
They win again – OK?
If I were a friend of Tony’s
I’d have a great career
No worries about my pension
New wallpaper every year
A limo to carry me round
No congestion charge to pay
Wasting money on the dome
Would set me on my way!
We’re not all friends of Tony’s
We have to work our way
He seems to have forgotten
Without us he’d have no pay!
I spoke to John the other day
(He’s a local farmer busy with hay)
We discussed the topics farmer’s do
Weather and crops and state of the EU!
The road outside his farm is now quiet and still
They’ve closed it off on Clothall Hill
Apart that is (he said whilst yawning)
For all the bootsale traffic on a Saturday morning!
Jamie’s on work experience
What am I to give him to do?
There’s sweeping and shovelling aplenty
And cleaning the carboot sale loo
I could park his bum on a tractor
To mow the grass that has grown
His mother would not be impressed
He’d demand a ride-on at home
He painted the signs for the bootsale
In a sort of graffiti-type way
I’ll give him a task that is suitable
He can paint all the barn doors in grey!
Around the boot-sale Gladys trundled
On her little electric cart
She’s been coming here for many a year
She always looked the part
She thought no one noticed her
Most never knew her name
But to us future Saturday mornings
Will just not be the same
-Without her
Goodbye Gladys, Rest in Peace.
What is the matter with Mary-Jane?
Her garage is full of clutter again!
A children’s bike a handle for a Morris
Some old china from Aunty Doris
The garden tools will have to go
She’s now got a patio
Problem solved in an easy way
Up the 507 on a Saturday!
He’s in the Campbell’s soup
Right up to his neck
Despite the spin and sexing up
Tony looks a wreck
Waiting on the sideline
With barely-concealed glee
Gordon Brown is smiling
“Very soon it could be me!”
Never mind Tony mate
If Presidential aspirations fail
You could always supplement your pension
At our Saturday car boot sale!
They look down their noses
When you don’t know the terms
Left-handed Gismo’s
Contra-rotating worms
“Don’t know the size?
No use I can be”
Into the back they go
Sniggering with glee
To Hell with trade counters
Where politeness fails
I’ll buy all I want
At friendly car boot sales!
I got up this morning
Smiling and humming
Oh good grief
The accountant’s coming
Sweat on brow
And clammy palms
Much photocopying
At Weston Barns
Now he’s gone
I can shout Hooray!
Be calm for the bootsale
On Saturday!
Farmer Giles was ready
For harvesting wheat
“It’d take one more thing
to make his day complete”
A small distraction
When the mind did linger
End up at the Lister
One mangled broken finger!
So let’s hear it for the nurses
Who put his digit together
You can laugh at him on Saturday
About his exploits in hot weather!
Fred and May have been away
Just when the temperatures soared
They both look tanned and healthy
They always go abroad
I saw them at the bootsale
They had a shock in store
Yes! They’d been on holiday
But they’d stayed on Britain’s shore
They didn’t change their money
No need to learn the lingo
No runny-tummy-upsets
Just fish and chips and bingo!
President Blair is back at last
To face some nasty questions
Alistair Campbell will back him up
Proffering suggestions
They’ll tell a few more lies
To save the mess they’re in
All the voters really want
Is truth without the spin
If their pay was performance related
Should their remuneration be so high?
If I had my way, I’d have to say
“You’re the weakest link – Goodbye!”
Ella’s started school
She’s nearly five
The excitement has reached fever-pitch
Now the day’s arrived!
The first ‘school run’
No thought to even cry
Rushes off to greet new friends
Hardly said ‘goodbye’
Her Barbie hunting forays
At the boot sale every week
May have to take a back seat
To catch up on her sleep!
I hear that farmers are praying for rain
They don’t want the drought
There is in Spain
The bakers are rubbing their hands with glee
Upped the price of a loaf by 7p
Even though it's clear to all you know
Wheat's far cheaper now
Than ten years ago
I asked Farmer Giles and he did say
"It can rain anytime -
BUT NOT SATURDAY!"
Up against the far hedge at the bootsale
In front of a green (or blue!) Rover car
A husband and wife set up their stall
You’ll see a tear in their eye from afar
They’re moving to Lincs next Thursday
No more will they come here to sell
They’ve both become part of the furniture
All of us here at the bootsale wish them well
They didn’t seek our permission
To relocate somewhere else in this way
We can only hope they’ll come visiting
And see us again one fine day!
We’ve dropped our daughter at Uni
Two hundred miles away
She’s been home for three whole months
The house is quieter from today
She spent her holiday at Bluntswood Hall
Waitressed at a wedding or two
Spilling coffee and tomato soup!
Without her what will they do?
We’ll have extra time on our hands
Fundraising will have to prevail
So that Dearest can afford her social life
We’ll take a pitch at the car boot sale!
My holiday’s a distant memory
Of sun and sand and sea
And now reality has set in
It’s back to work for me
Rush for the train rush for the Tube
Rushing all day long
Compared to relaxing on holiday
This life I lead is wrong!
I want to buy a camper van
Follow the Ancient Trail
As long as at the end of the week
I’m back for the car boot sale!
He had been quite ill
His family sold the cottage
To a couple from Notting Hill
They descended at the weekend
Rifled through possessions
Left the junk and did a bunk
With vulture like impressions
Down at the car boot sale
I disposed of what was left
If they had known what I now own
They would be bereft!
Giles and Jack and Jill and Maise
Wonder what they’ll do on Winter Saturdays
Jack say’s he’ll write to Tony Blair
(A waste of time ‘cos Tony don’t care)
Maise says she will write to the Pope
(Because she doesn’t think she will cope)
Jill will E-mail all the press
(Hoping for some slight success)
They all look for the answer from Farmer Giles
(Who’s thinking of lie-ins as he smiles)
He quietly finishes his pint of ale
He knows the 25th is the last boot sale
‘Let’s go down to Rio’
The lyrics used to say
No mention of a drugs test
We’ll go shopping instead today!
What’s happened to the National game?
Where players once were stars
Money has tainted football
Rape and drugs and bars
On Saturday at the bootsale
Entrance for buyers is free
The cars are not Ferrari’s
And the preferred drink is tea!
Oh! Where shall we go in the winter?
Without the car boot sale
What shall we do on a Saturday?
When there’s ice and snow and hail
Shall we follow the sunshine?
(You need an MP’s salary for that!)
No jetting away on the sort of pay
That won’t buy a local one-roomed flat
2004 is just round the corner
(Unless I’ve been given the sack)
Then comes the day in April we’ll say
“Hooray! The bootsales are back!”
Happy Christmas from the Baldock Bard