I remember the first time I tried it I was only a lad o’ sixteen And though she was younger than I was She was much more composed and serene. It was doon in the byre on the straw At the end o’ a fine summer’s day The air was scented wi’clover And the smell […]
I awoke early this grey dreary day as the bucket above was still emptying it’s self. We’ve been inundated with 4.6″ of the wet stuff so far. The guru’s of weather are saying it will continue through the day. All the best laid plans of mice and men are now on hold.
So what does one do early on a rainy Saturday Morn? Catch up on your reading Rooster and pass along someone’s chicken scratch that catches me eye. The Mad Hatter is one of the many Blogger’s whose work I follow and he is always entertaining. So I pass along his poem to gain a smile on this rainy Saturday Morn.
Just click below and enjoy.
Hi – and thanks for the re-post, share, or whatever they’re called – it’s much appreciated.
It’s great to read that you find us entertaining, although I fear for your mental health if you are entertained by any of the drivel that I write.
There isn’t one single Mad Hatter, but more of a collection of Hatters (Mad or otherwise . . .) spread around 3 locations in England, one in North Africa and one from somewhere called the United States of America. I believe the last place is somewhere near Canada; It makes the news on occasions – you may have heard of it.
Thanks for the come back. Shall fly across the pond mid September, be in and around London most of the time for eight days. Ye 3 are an entertaining lot and appreciated.