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Poem	Contributor
Ishe the Elf	Robert Ashwood
Bone aches in the knee	Lynny Hughes
See you Jimmy	Robert Ashwood

Ishe the Elf (pronounced Izzi)

Ishe was an Elf you know
No bigger than your smallest toe
His life was full of magic stuff
Like sleeping on a powder puff

His pillows made of cotton wool
His bed clothes round his head would pull
As thunder storms at night would pass
Waking up the sleeping grass

His sheets were made of soft green leaves
His clock was made of string
Every time the clock struck one
It gave a long loud PING

One day as he went swimming
In a pool of dew
He thought he spied a monster
Just hidden from his view

It weaved and dodged behind a bush
And then flew by, with such a WHOOSH
It knocked poor Ishe to the ground
Which left him spinning round and round

As he stopped, but dizzy still
He fell against a daffodil
Who’s long green stem reached for the sky
It’s golden head it swayed on high

Then the sky began to darken
Darker than the night itself
Running past an ageing daisy
Ishe slipped and fell into his house

He peeked outside through cobweb windows
Two dark trees rose from the ground
Up and up the trees went higher
Until they met a feathered mound

Benny the crow looked down at Ishe
His wings were black and very long
Said “sorry Squire, didn’t see you,
Haven’t got my glasses on”

“That’s all alright” said Ishe bravely
Walking right up to the bird
“Stop for Tea, I’ve got some bread
and a jar of lemon curd

After tea they both went flying
Through the clouds up to the moon
In and out of stars that twinkled
Going home came far too soon

When at last in white pyjamas
Ishe laid his sleepy head
Bed clothes snugly wrapped around him
In his new warm, black feathered bed.

Robert Ashwood © April 2001

Contributed by Lynny Hughes Bone aches in the knee Does anyone else find, as you get older You get weird twinges in your shoulder? Does anyone else, or is it just me? Gets those strange bone aches in the knee And when for sometime kneeling down Have trouble getting off the ground When somewhere quick you try to nip Do you get held up, by a dodgy hip? Are your fingers less effective? Eyesight somewhat more defective? Do 'all' arteries start to harden? When someone speaks - do you keep saying 'Pardon?' And when you sit to relax and be less serious Along comes aching back most mysterious Do others find senses getting duller? Hair lost nearly all its colour That once slim and lithesome figure Now more fulsome and, well, bigger! And even so my skin is full of creases Does everybody fall to pieces? And yet, inside this dodgy shell Is the me I know so well Looking out of myself is the very same me That was five and ten and twenty three And its not 'me' that's so worn out and shoddy It's just this silly old physical body!
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Contributed by Robert Ashwood See You Jimmy See you Jimmy was a Scot Who never could get very hot Not for him the sporran and kilt But a Tartan continental quilt His legs were bony, long and thin Tossing cabers not for him His scrawny legs gave way beneath As he sank into the heath His daily porridge made his strong But the trouble not for long His claymore dropped as he sat down His ginger wig fell to the ground He was know throughout the village To be a man of means And yet when one looked closely All was not as it would seem His knee length socks, they were so bright Tied with string the bottom tight But only to his ankles glued His feet inside his shoes were nude Alas poor Jim I knew him well His moonshine booze he’d try to sell But Oh the day the policeman came And dragged him down the street to shame “Oh no” he cried, and screamed and raged Until they threw him in a cage But not afraid was little Jim Because he knew that he was thin So with a push And with a shove He squeezed Twix bars That would not budge He hid behind a lamppost tall His skinny frame not seen at all Until his teeth began to chatter The silent night the noise did shatter And so poor Jim was took away Never to see the light of day A dark damp cell they threw him in And so we say goodbye to Jim, poor thing.

Contributed by Lynny Hughes

Bone aches in the knee

Does anyone else find, as you get older

You get weird twinges in your shoulder?

Does anyone else, or is it just me?

Gets those strange bone aches in the knee

And when for sometime kneeling down

Have trouble getting off the ground

When somewhere quick you try to nip

Do you get held up, by a dodgy hip?

Are your fingers less effective?

Eyesight somewhat more defective?

Do 'all' arteries start to harden?

When someone speaks - do you keep saying 'Pardon?'

And when you sit to relax and be less serious

Along comes aching back most mysterious

Do others find senses getting duller?

Hair lost nearly all its colour

That once slim and lithesome figure

Now more fulsome and, well, bigger!

And even so my skin is full of creases

Does everybody fall to pieces?

And yet, inside this dodgy shell

Is the me I know so well

Looking out of myself is the very same me

That was five and ten and twenty three

And its not 'me' that's so worn out and shoddy

It's just this silly old physical body!

Contributed by Robert Ashwood

See You Jimmy

See you Jimmy was a Scot
Who never could get very hot
Not for him the sporran and kilt
But a Tartan continental quilt

His legs were bony, long and thin
Tossing cabers not for him
His scrawny legs gave way beneath
As he sank into the heath

His daily porridge made his strong
But the trouble not for long
His claymore dropped as he sat down
His ginger wig fell to the ground

He was know throughout the village
To be a man of means
And yet when one looked closely
All was not as it would seem

His knee length socks, they were so bright
Tied with string the bottom tight
But only to his ankles glued
His feet inside his shoes were nude

Alas poor Jim I knew him well
His moonshine booze he’d try to sell
But Oh the day the policeman came
And dragged him down the street to shame

“Oh no” he cried, and screamed and raged
Until they threw him in a cage
But not afraid was little Jim
Because he knew that he was thin

So with a push
And with a shove
He squeezed Twix bars
That would not budge

He hid behind a lamppost tall
His skinny frame not seen at all
Until his teeth began to chatter
The silent night the noise did shatter

And so poor Jim was took away
Never to see the light of day
A dark damp cell they threw him in
And so we say goodbye to Jim, poor thing.

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