The Pink Jacket

The  Pink Jacket

I chose the wool with extra care,
The deepest, softest pink,
Slightly fluffy, nice and soft,
The very best, I think.
It knitted up quite quickly,
The stitches flat and neat,
The back, the fronts, and then the sleeves,
It really did look sweet.
About a fortnight later
The job was all but done
And I sewed the buttons down the front
Sat outside in the sun.
The jacket, wrapped in tissue,
Was stored away that day,
Awaiting your arrival
Towards the end of May.
The big day came, and you were born,
There were such tears of joy!
Alas the jacket wasn't worn -
You were a baby boy!

The Joys f Wild Living

The Joys of Wild Living

The joys of wild living are surely not for me;
I'd rather stay at home and have a cup of tea.
I'd no sooner be reckless than fly through the air,
Or dye my hair purple without a thought or care.
Dare-devil jumping, swimming with whales,
Eating dodgy body bits, testicles and snails;
Going naked in the winter, on a trip down to the shore,
Singing Glory Hallelujah as I surf the Severn Bore.
Riding bareback horses, howling loudly at the moon,
Knitting orange bedsocks whilst reading Lorna Doone;
I could give away my worldly goods, my chickens and my ducks,
Drive the wrong way down the High Street shouting 'I don't give two f***s!'
Packing up my bags and hats to take exotic trips,
With learning how to levitate I could really get to grips!
Turning up at public meetings just to cause a bit of trouble,
And meeting up with witches - all that toil and hubble bubble!
I could shave off all my hair and pierce my nipples and my tongue,
And when people look in horror say I've only just begun......
A belly bar and sari pants I think would be quite nifty
Roller skates and body boards although I'm over fifty.
Eating cold baked beans and ravioli with a spoon out of a tin,
Pouring ketchup on your ice cream, is it really such a sin?
Staying up till dawn and watching rubbish on TV,
Drinking single malt with ice cubes and lots of cups of tea.
Leave your nettles growing, no matter what the neighbours say,
Make your lawn into a meadow and give away the hay.
Leave your washing out for days and days and watch them all complain
Grow your pot in hanging baskets and picnic in the rain.
Shocking maiden aunts with knowledge of the Kama Sutra,
Gonna get myself a toyboy, a helmet and a scooter;
Spend my lunchtimes in the local, drinking Babycham and wine,
Picking up the local young men, shouting 'All come back to mine!'
These things might seem quite tame to some, and definitely not wild,
Some might think them boring, dull, and just a little mild
But to me they represent my thoughts, ideas and ambitions,
I get fed up with doing 'nice' things, being 'good' and old traditions.
Such things that I would do ofcourse, are just designed to shock
At a certain time of life, against the ticking of a clock.
I need to break out, run away and make a damn girt noise,
Lose my head and lose my marbles, my dignity and poise....
It's nice to have a pipedream to sit and muse upon
Just to keep me company when all my friends are gone.
I might have done these things above, it might be all for show,
It might be my  imagination, you'll really never know.
There'll be no mourning for a life misspent or ruing things I've done,
Or worrying that I may have just missed out on all the fun.
For after all, remember this, when all is done and said,
The joys of wild living can be all inside your head..................

What I will be

I'd sooner be quirky than kitsch,
I'd rather be nice than a bitch;
I'll not buy, but make,
Be real not a fake,
And I'd rather be happy than rich.

Baa-hemian Rhapsody

Baa-hemian  Rhapsody

This is all real wool!
It's not a fantasy,
Caught in a woolslide, it's a lovely reality!
Open your stash,
Don't think of the cash, just see..............
I'm just a knitter, I need no sympathy
Because it's cast on now, in the round
Towards new socks I am bound,
Any way the wool rolls, doesn't really matter to me, to me............

Mama, cast on again,
Put the needles underarm,
Where they can't do any harm;
Mama, socks have just begun
But now I find I just can't put it down!
Mama  ooooooo
Didn't mean to make you sigh
If they're not knit and done this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on, as knitting really matters................

Too late, I've reached the heel,
Swapped my tens for number nines,
Needles clicking all the time,
Goodbye everybody, I've got to knit!
Gotta leave you all behind and face the toe.......
Mama oooooooo ( any way the wool rolls)
I don't want to frog!
I sometimes wish I'd never cast on at all.............

I see a little ladder of a dropped stitch
Pick it up, pick it up
Can I do it nice and neatly?
Loosening and tightening, very very frightening me!
Zimmerman and Fassett,
Liz Lovick, Katie Davis
And co.... magnifico..................

He's just a poor stitch, laddered down the sock leg
Spare him his gauge from this monstrosity!
Easy now, pick him up, can I pick him up,
Feather and fan, I will not let you go - let you go
Print o' the wave, I will not let you go - let you go
Old shale and more, I will not let you go - let you go
Will not let you go - let you go (never)
Never let you go - let you go
Never let you go - oooooo
No no no no no no no!
Oh mama mia, mama mia, got you now,
My pattern has special place for you
For you
For you!

So you think you confuse me with Kitchener stitch
So you think I can't take you to my Stitch'n'Bitch?
Oh baby, I can finish you baby,
Just got to cast off, just got to cast off now right here!

Ooh yeah, ooh yeah,
Knitting really matters,
Anyone can see,
Knitting really matters, to me

Any way the wool rolls...........................

Words

Do not be uncomfortable with
My truths I give you,
Wrought with fragile apprehension
From my heart's secret, honest depths.
A life too short,
With words unsaid
Is not for me.

Dawn

I watch the dawn come gently,
Paint the sky with form and hue
Colouring a brand new day
Heavy with optimism
And promises of
Peace and joy and wonder
To cheer the heart and nourish
The soul,
To seize as if
Another day may never come again.

The Wisdom of my Soul

My heart beats
To the music of our friendship,
The wisdom of my soul in tune
With the then, the now, and what is yet to come.
Shared joys fill the days
With light and laughter,
Warmth and belonging
Giving strength and hope to hold fast upon
When time decrees.
We share the moon, the stars,
The very stuff of earth
Where countless lovers' feet have trod as one,
Towards an everlasting love
That is the very essence
Of my wild and precious soul.