Allotments

It is wicked and windy outside but as needs must I did the Tesco dash however took the 'scenic' route; jumped out, tousled with the camera in gale force winds and this is the best of the bunch (viewed large you will see the cock and more besides).

'Twas the night before Christmas, and away down the street,
the silence was broken by scurrying feet,
the rustling of bags, and the clanking of tools,
and the light from the torches made glimmering pools.
A different sound beckoned, and, looking, I saw
A man with a wheelbarrow go past the door.
I hastily donned my coat and my hat,
and followed along to see what they were at.
To the gates of the lottie the multitude went,
And I wondered what mischief was their intent;
But into the lottie they all made their way,
Their torches making it all bright as day,
Their feet now were silent, and the only sound
Was the clang of their forks on the iron hard ground,
as the carrots and parsnips emerged from the clay,
prize plants they`d been saving for many a day,
and cabbage and Brussels sprouts picked by the score
and leeks and Swedes, oh and lots and lots more.
And `twas then that I realised what was the reason
For all this activity at night, out of season.
As the gardeners all hauled their fresh produce away
To be gorged on in platefuls on Christmas Day.

And as I walked back I looked up to the sky,
And a strange sight met my astonished eye;
A bearded old man in a red dressing gown
Was driving a sleigh high up over the town,
And he swooped down low as he saw the crowd,
And as he drove over he shouted out loud,
'Whatever you do, don`t put those in the pot
my reindeer had diarrhoea all over the lot'

(Hugh Jones)