Russell Crow!

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IMG_0008_2A friend is hand-rearing a crow that was taken to the local vet as a fledgling. As you may have guessed, she has called it Russell. Crows are amongst the most intelligent animals on earth, they can mimic sounds, build structures using hand-tools and write entire novels with a blunt pencil. In fact, believe it or not, today’s verse is Russell’s first ever published work, using beak on keyboard…

Russell is a Crow!
As bold as bold can be,
He’s spent his life being hand reared,
Not living in a tree!
But soon will come the day,
Released into the wild,
And Val will say ‘cheerio’,
To her angelic little child!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above


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The Beauty of Bovines!

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Grazing CattleIf there is one group of farm animals that are eminently watchable but largely ignored in art, it is cattle. Horses and sheep have found their way onto canvas via the brushes of some very famous artists, but few pictures of cows have made it into the nation’s galleries. There is nothing more relaxing than sitting quietly on a sunny day, watch this most graceful of creatures. Conversely, given a cold damp morning as they line up for the milking parlour, their glamour is instantly replaced by mud and muck. However in a photograph this is soon forgotten…

In the Bovine Olympics
They’re having a race,
To see who can eat the most.

They hope that Mo Farah,
Don’t turn up with his ‘barrow’
And pip them all at the post!

They munch at the grass,
Rhythmically not fast,
You can tell that they’re engrossed!

It’s strange to concede,
That as you watch them feed,
They will feed you as a roast!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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National Warming Wanted!

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Hay 13.1We Brits love to gripe about the weather. We are a bit like two terriers, who’ll turn on each other if there’s no other dog to rag with! If we didn’t have the weather as a major part of our conversation, we’d have to find fault with other parts of our lives, and that might well show up our inadequacies! So here we are again, nearing the end of June, longest day behind us, and we have a committee of weathermen meeting somewhere looking into global warming. Now national warming, I’d like to see, just for a few days, just for long enough so I can make the bloody hay, to feed animals I don’t have. I must be daft (but then if you have read more than a few of my daily blogs, that will come as no surprise!)…

If you’re wondering where the sun has gone,
The days are full of gloom,
There’s still the chance of a touch of frost,
Don’t worry it’s the end of June!
And if you’re looking to park the blame,
“It’s his fault you want to say!”
Point the finger firmly at me,
We’re busy making hay!
As soon at the mower leaves the shed,
And the baler from hibernation awakes,
Global warming’s not here now,
Haymaking’s all it takes!
Hay 13.2
© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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NHS Trust!

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Lister HospitalI played taxi driver yesterday to the outpatients department of our local hospital, the Lister in Stevenage. Following recent horrific stories in the press, I expected to be entering a war zone with operations taking place in the corridors and accountants and administrators arguing over which tools the surgeon could afford to use. However what I found was doctors and nurses going about the job of healing the sick with quiet and peaceful efficiency. Maybe the calm was due to ‘swan-bicycle-syndrome’ where they are peddling like hell underneath the surface in order to keep afloat. If that was the case, it certainly didn’t show. Perhaps the detractors would like to see the other side of the coin, a country without public health-care…

If you walk into a hospital,
Here, not necessarily abroad,
A doctor will always see you,
With treatment all can afford.

However if you’re born,
In the ‘Land of the Free’,
You’ve got no health-care,
No healing you’ll see.

So quit the complaining,
About NHS care,
We’d all be such losers,
If it wasn’t there.

Dedicated to all the nurses and doctors who are healing the sick in the National Health Service without the thanks and support they deserve from us all.

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The Risks of ‘Elf and Safety!

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Longer LadderHealth and Safety rules are everywhere in our daily lives. Unfortunately so are rules invented by ‘Elf and Safety, its unruly twin brother. Councils are particularly fond of this latter breed of made-up gold-plated rules and many jobsworths are employed to ensure compliance. Unfortunately this stupidity tends to counteract the good work done by the HSE (Health and Safety Executive) who are then unfairly tarred with the same, rather soiled, brush…

You need a longer ladder, Mate,
To change that bulb up there!
Have you done an assessment,
Of the risk posed by you pair?

Have you done the training,
To wear a fluorescent vest?
Or been on a course, rules to enforce,
That ‘Elf and Safety’s best!

We can’t have hanging baskets,
In case they should fall down,
Christmas Trees just spread disease,
So are banished from the town!

No conkers in the playground,
Unless safety goggles worn,
Clip-on ties, save bulging eyes,
When Tom’s tie is grabbed by Shaun!

The HSE are desperately trying,
to challenge the ‘Elf and Safety myth,
So check with them, before telling the men,
Who may think you’re taking the pith!

Help the HSE banish the myth and restore sense by visiting
http://www.hse.gov.uk/myth/

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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The Unsung Heroes of Wimbledon Fortnight!

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BBWimbledon Fortnight is here again. Fourteen days of showers, analysis and Sue Barker on TV at tea-time! Do other countries have this sort of slavish obedience to a sport once a year, only to leave it rusting away, unloved and forgotten in the rear of the garage for another 50 weeks? The unsung heroes of this festival are those who spend the fortnight in the firing line, on bended knee, with more airtime than the big stars, yet remain unknown – the BBGs (ball boys and girls)…

Do ball boys and ball girls
Attend special schools?
Where they learn to dash across the court,
To retrieve the server’s balls?

Do they take exhaustive lessons,
In how to look at ease,
When a multi-millionaire player,
Doesn’t utter the word “please”!

When at last the day is over,
And they’re safe, tucked up in bed,
Are they thankful, that no ball,
Thwacked them in the head!

So as you sit there drinking,
A cold Pimms on Henman Hill!
Give a thought to the BBGs
And appreciate their skill.

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above
picture: Daily Mail

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A Match Made in Baldock!

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IMG_0006Have you ever discovered something that is a perfect, yet unlikely match? Maybe your meat-only best friend has discovered love with a vegetarian and somehow it just works? Or that horrible golf sweater that Aunty Florence gave you for Christmas ten years ago is suddenly all the rage at Glasto? No doubt the answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind…

I have a new food craving,
It’s irritating, not a crime!
I dip a Cheeselet in Dairylea,
I do it all the time!
But when I am ‘in company’,
Mrs Bard shudders at the thought,
That I’ll be a Dairylea-dipping disaster,
More embarrassing than a wart!
So I’ve perfected a routine,
To hide this simple pleasure,
Some of each in a pocket,
So I can ‘dip-dip-dip’ at leisure!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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Summer Solstice 2013!

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Solstice 2013The above picture was taken this morning at 6:04am, the time of the Summer Solstice. I had donned my (Baldock) bardic robes and wearing my sanctified sandals, sacrificed a goat by the sacred stone whilst saluting the sun (put a sheet around my shoulders, found an old pair of Crocs and held a picture of a surfing goat while looking out of the window at the grey clouds). Many years ago, on the site now occupied by our ancient village church, pagan activities such as sun worshiping may have taken place. These days, thanks to global warming, we very rarely even see the sun, so perhaps we should give it a try…
SGWay down West in Stonehenge,
When the sun rose early this morning,
A lot of men with goat-like beards,
Wearing sandals, chanting and snorting!
A surfing goat put to sea,
Just because she could.
Unfortunately she couldn’t see
The trees for all the wood!
So if you’re wondering and quite confused,
As to where this verse is heading,
You’re almost as confused as the surfing goat,
Who thought she was in Reading!

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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How Not to Steal a Car (in one easy lesson!)

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Stolen CarThe other evening I was walking back through a local town and witnessed two yoofs pushing a car in most suspicious circumstances. Resisting the urge to offer jump leads, spanners or access to my vast experience of break-downs, I took out my camera! The result was a vindication for my keep-fit regime and the head start offered by a low wall. Panting heavily and gasping for breath, I easily merged into a group of pensioners waiting at a bus stop for the 4.21 to Sutton Bridge (which was only four hours late!)…

Broke into the car,
There goes the paint!
We’re nicking a car,
Professionals we ain’t!

We’ll open the window,
With this little hammer,
Then force open the bonnet,
With an old rusty spanner!

My mate will hot-wire it,
Have you met Trev’s?
Then we’ll start the engine,
And give it some revs!

What you done now Trev?
The engine won’t start,
What you mean push it?
That ain’t playing my part!

Here comes a big car,
Perhaps they will help,
“What you mean arrested?”
“Touch me, I’ll yelp!”

“It’s quite comfortable,
Are we going far?
Always wanted a ride,
In a police traffic car!”

© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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An Angry Old Man gets Phone Rage!

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MastIt’s finally happened! Yesterday, as a result of mobile-phone signal rage, I turned into Angry Old Man! The transformation (without even a phone box in sight), to a tweed-crusader with raised walking-stick and flat cap, was instantaneous. One moment I was sitting in the office awaiting an important text, the next I was stalking around the farmyard in search of a phone signal with ears steaming like a kettle! The situation was not helped when son-in-law Bard showed me the perfect signal on his phone! It was only when cancelling my contract that I was struck by the ‘bleedin obvious’: I ought to be using a signal from the tall metal structure 1000yds away in our own wood! I went into Stevenage where two very calm and charming people, George and Sara, showed me the future…

What comes after O2?
Why! It has to be 3!
I’ve moved my phone contract,
From the progeny of BT!
I went into Stevenage,
Had quite a shock,
George and Sara were helpful,
in 3’s town-centre shop!
It was not long before,
(They’d not twisted my arm),
I was receiving a full signal,
Everywhere on the farm!
There’s only one problem,
No more can I say,
“Didn’t have a signal,
When you rang me today!”

The staff at the 3 phone shop in Queensgate Stevenage are awarded the following award for surprisingly good service. Thank you George and Sara from the Baldock Bard. I thought  as I left the shop: “They deserve a Gold Star” so here it is!
Baldock-Bard-Gold-Star-Award-300x291
© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above

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