Mrs McGinty’s shed,
who put it up?
“No, not I!”
Mrs McGinty’s shed,
who built it there?
“I don’t know – why?”
Mrs McGinty’s shed,
it just fell down!
“Nothing to do with me –
I was out of town.”
I found a man upon the cliffs,
the dying words,
I heard him utter,
were. ‘Why didn’t they sell Peanut Butter?’
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #AgathaChristie, #poetry. #poem, #spoof, #WhyDidntTheyAskEvans
You left the dead body on the landing;
do you have no understanding
of how these criminal cases go?
The detective examined the body,
the coroner told him the cause:
‘A sharp bite to the back of the neck,
whilst held between two paws.’
And in your defence…?
A magpie sat at the top of a tree,
two others flew down and then there were three;
two flew off at the sound of a gun
three minus two, that makes one.
A magpie sat at the top of the tree,
he flew off,
and then there were none.
The Body in the Library
(Yet another poem that tries to fit the title of an Agatha Christie novel in to it)
The Bodleian Library,
in Oxford,
has quite a few books
in crannies
and nooks;
when
I
went there
I was
the
Odd body in the library.
… always a train;
in every episode of Poirot;
well, in most of them,
I should say.
Time and time again
we see Hercule
upon a train,
waving goodbye to,
or greeting one
in a Herculean way.
‘There’s always a train
Mm-hmm, there’s always a train
Always, always (always a train)‘*
Always,
always,
always a train.
*from Always The Sun by The Stranglers
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #AgathaChristie, #poetry. #poem, #Poirot, #Stranglers, song, Train
Agatha Christiemas?
What shall we find with the new Poirot?
Shall it be ABC 5*
Parts 1,2 and 3?
Or will it be a Hickory Dickory Shock
to the system?
Shall I have to get the 3:10 from Paddington to Bear it?
Who knows whether John Suchet
can be bettered
or equaled…
it is, perhaps,
just a previous reincarnation
sequelled?
James Japp
was a detective chap
although he needed Hercules
to put him right;
and Captain Hastings
usually gets it all wrong
apart from the one thing he says
that sets Hercules’ little grey cells thinking
upon the correct path
to the logical solution.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #AgathaChristie, #CaptainHastings, #HerculesPoitot, #JamesJapp
Yesterday,
The Mysterious Affair at Styles
was the first
many followed
few bettered.
Today’s AgathaChristiethon
starts with A Pocketful Of Rye;
while the weather is appalling
It helps the day slip by.
Author’s Note: I should have posted this today.
The mystery
Of Agatha Christie
And where she went
For those eleven days
Has never truly been explained.
It has been said
That she left her daughter in bed
And went to seek a truth.
But, the truth will out
Without a doubt…
But, there is nowt
That is known
Of where Agatha went.
When she returned
It couldn’t be learned
Of where she had been
Or what she had done.
It was Agatha Christie
With the Unknown Purpose
In the Morris Cowley
That did it;
But, what ‘it’ may have been…
Perhaps, we shall never know.
Well, we all like a good mystery.
 | Lokesh Umak on We counted them out |
| Lokesh Umak on We counted them out |
 | Words from a Lentil… on We counted them out |
| Lokesh Umak on We counted them out |
| Words from a Lentil… on Down the Looe! |
