Uncle Georgie now keeps his ukulele
hanging in the old green house shed
among his prize tomatoes and inter bred aubergines
dripping with drops from kettle steam
His wife, after years of suffering
from banjo ear, strum fever
and drum disease,
stunned him with an ultimatum.
"Its either me or the marrows thats leavin'"
So it has come to pass that we sit on our asses
son of a gun style in the old shed,
huddled round the paraffin heater,
beating a rhythm against the cold,
pretending we are old wild west cowpokes
with Captain Geronimo and Charlie Custer,
our near neighbours, all fumed up,
swearin’ that them tomato plants
grew twice as tall if tuned in and kerplunked
every dam dun day with a uke.
With Geronimo on banjo, Custer playin the spoons
and me whistlin’ tunelessly on flute,
wavin’ the tape measure while owls a-hooted,
we were on a dead cert, as the windows misted
and the full moon blew dreams across a cloudy sky