Little poem to Boggy’s shed


The wind it blew, the wind it howled
To Uckfield across from Splott
And Boggy’s Shed cast off it’s moorings
And now it’s landed in OUR garden plot.

It’s upright and still undamaged
And Major Dickie has broken in
He’s perused the contents of this shed
And found films and some gin.

So Boggy come round here at once
And retrieve your rotten shed
You’ve given the Major strange ideas
And I’m living in certain dread.

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