A white cabbage
flew into my garden
just the other day.
.
It wasn’t even
a moment past
the merry month of May.
.
There was this grocer
that I’d forgotten to pay;
he couldn’t gain my attention
in any other way.
.
It landed on my head,
almost made me dead,
from a wound I freely bled;
and headed off to bed.
.
The police asked the grocer,
‘Were you the one who threw it?’
‘No, sir.’ said the grocer,
‘But, truth be told I grew it.’
.
The policeman had a whistle,
and long and loudly blew it;
and every dog who heard,
for miles and miles around,
was awakened by the sound
of the whistle blowing loud;
they formed a woofy crowd,
around the grocer bold,
to see what he would say,
and hear what he might be told.
.
Evidence I had,
of a cabbage and a wound(
but the grocer pleaded my insanity,
at which false claim I swooned.
.
In the end I paid the grocer,
so he would come no closer;
and off he went in haste,
with a dollar he would waste
upon the purchase of a goat,
who’s asking price was a five-pound note.
Graeme Sandford 