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A selection of poems and ditties
from the pen of J R Booker..
Latterly of High Street and
Hyndley Road, Bolsover
and a proud ex-pupil of:
Welbeck Road Infants,
 Bolsover CofE Juniors (The Nats),
and Shirebrook Grammar.

Compiled and published in awe and admiration by younger brother Geoff.

Videre est credere -
Seeing is believing

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Avoid Clowne Tesco on Thursdays.

An Apology to the Good People of Clowne

It's Thursday, day to pick “old lass” up,
From O.A.P. club and do her weekly shop.
Same every week, so she can get her divvy,
We trudge around Bozer Co-op.

I knew this week would be different,
She’d been like a dog wi’ a bone.
She’d got it into her head,
As she needed a mobile phone.

We tried, but there were none in Bozer,
It's an old-fashioned, one horse town.
But I’d a good idea where to get one,
They’ve built a new Tesco’s in Clowne.

So, off we went, and we got one,
Then came the words I was dreading to hear,
“We might as well do rest of mi’ shopping,
Being as we‘re already here!”

“Where’s bacon, “R” John? Where’s cornflakes?
I can’t find ‘owt in this store!”
“Well, it's no use asking me, mam.
‘Cos I’ve never been here before!”

There comes a moment in everyone’s life,
When time either stops or goes real slow.
But just in that split second of silence between records,
Well, to be blunt, she let one go!

It was a corker! It was a cracker! Akin to a sonic boom!
It reverberated in the rafters and echoed around the Food Hall!
I just stood there, pondering. How could something that loud,
Emanate from someone so small?

Folk were looking at me! I was innocent!
But I was turning a whiter shade of pale,
Their accusing looks showed who they thought ,
Had done summat that registered on Richter Scale!!

It's not my place to say it, but words
Could not describe the way it smelled.
I looked for mi’ mam and her trolley,
They’d disappeared – no doubt, jet propelled!

“Just get to check-out, mam,” I said when I’d found her.
“I think its time we went!”
“I’d better get you back to Bozer,
Before you have an accident!”

As we went through Exit doors,
All Clowne folk were stood there, glaring.
And as we pulled out of car park,
Fire engine pulled in, all sirens blaring!!

It’s a good job its not far,
On back roads to Bozer from Clowne.
Although it were minus five degrees, I drove back,
Wi’ all windows wound right down!

So this is my request to the cooks,
At Thursday’s O.A.P. club. PLEASE!,
Make ‘em ‘owt that you like’
But don’t gi’ ‘em MUSHY PEAS!!!

HOME | BACKGROUND| THE POEMS | GLOSSARY

Phoenix (Nowt stops a good man from doin woris raight)

Ab Honesto Virum Bonum Nihil Deterret

ROTHERHAM WEB DESIGN

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