The theme Jon chose for the JVG Radio Method today was “HOPPING”.

Click to play today’s piece … [audio:JVG_Poem20070603.mp3]

Today finds me in Coventry, smack in the Midlands. I have had a week to just sit and read, roam about the town, sample some of the fine “Real Ales” available in the local imbibing emporiums (the Guinness Quality Assurance Program has been temporarily put on hold) and generally relax.

All I can say is that if this is being “sent to Coventry” it doesn’t work as a punishment. Next week is the Lakes District and perhaps I’ll bag a Munro or two.

Ah yes… this is the bit where the words would go. I really will do something about the putting up words when I get home to Melbourne. What I really need to find is a pub with a decent computer so I can write up some of the pieces.I know, I’ll have to go and check a few of the pubs and see if any of them have computers as well as real ale.I will do it right now.


E.U. estimates, claim the number of brits
who can walk to be fifty two million
those with canes are included, zimmer frames are excluded
younger than four count as pillion

while farquar mctavish, had a stride less than lavish
it was a far cry from being the worst
though he walked unassisted, they denied he existed
for he was the fifty two million and first

the e.u. then judged, if their numbers were fudged
the whole order of things could unravel
far better they said, if farquar instead
found an alternate method of travel

at first their demands, were he walk on his hands
for farquar was rather well built
but under no circumstance, would he wear underpants
and he never wore slacks but a kilt

next he was told, perhaps if he rolled
but he found it a bugger to stop
they employed engineers, to come up with ideas
they recommended he hop

while it seemed less efficient, he was soon quite proficient
and could comfortably hop while still talking
every hour for a treat, they let him alternate feet
any more they determined was walking

two amputees, both gone from the knees
one a butcher, the other a brickie
while doing their shopping, farquar came hopping
they thought he was taking the mickey

while he tried to explain, it only fuelled their disdain
so he tried to escape across town
though he was quite athletic, with their hi-tech prosthetics
his assailants soon hopped him down

by now they were narky, with poor hop-a long farquy
and created a hell of a din
they shoved their prostheses, between farquy’s creases
where things normally came out, rarely in

sticking out from his seat, were now two extra feet
like a centaur a witness remarked
when he stood up to hop, he went snap, crackle pop
poor four footed farquy was farqued

the e.u. was chuffed, poor farquy was stuffed
his movement reduced to a totter
they didn’t care, their books were now square
they had him reclassified as a trotter

most of you must, have already sussed
this story’s been stretched just a tad
for the gullible few, who believe this tale’s true
my darlings you’re all hopping mad

© Copyright 2007 Ian Bland

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