The Windmill

THE WINDMILL

An ickle poem by Julia Line

aged 67 and three quarters

The bloody wind's been blowing now

For days, and days, and days.

It comes straight off the marshes

Where the horses love to graze.

It creeps in round the windows,

And it swirls in under doors.

It shoots straight up my trouser legs

Not stopping at my draws.

The bloody wind's been blowing now

Since it woke me up at dawn.

It's knocked the blossoms off the trees,

They're scattered on the lawn.

It's picking up old papers.

It's whirling them around

And when it's finished playing

It just dumps them on the ground.

Any excuse for a running dog.

The bloody wind's stopped blowing now

And shall I tell you why?

Because I've bought a windmill

And I want to see it fly.

It cost me all of 99p at the Pound Shop.

I want to see it's sails go round

Like when I was a kid

But the bloody wind has stopped now

But they bloody nearly did!

Typical!