A four line poem

I wrote this about 40 years ago. It is a true story about someone who came to my beginners dressmaking class wanting to make a jacket which had lots of panels.

The Evening Class

She said she'd make a coat as such
With panels back and front
I thought that I would bear the brunt
As she didn't sew that much

I'm sure I really had explained
In words both long and short
That unless you were properly trained
A coat was better bought

She cut it out and all went well
We even got it tacked
She said her friend could run and fell
I thought it would get hacked

My heart did sink but as you see
It was her work she'd brought
I wanted her to leave it to me
I was the one who taught

She took it home as her friend could sew
(At least she thought she could)
A friend who 'sews' is more a foe
And instructions clear as mud

She brought it back, I took a glance
It didn't look so bad
All was done, she took her chance
But she was rather sad

The coat was over large you see
It really was a mess
It could have held both her and me
(Well maybe a little less)

She wondered what she ought to do
My advice was sought at last
My answer made her sob and boo
The words an icy blast

'Take it all apart' say I
'There's nothing more to do'
'The seams are all too small' I cry
'Your friend can help you too'

Off she went back home to friend
I havn't seen her since
She must have thought I was the end
My words I did not mince

So dear reader the message is plain
Whatever it is you sew
Make sure that the seams don't gain
If a friend you want - not foe

What is not mentioned in the poem is that she had also put the sleeves in but in the wrong armholes !! I still wonder what happened to it !!

tiggypiro tears of laughter are running down my face, excellent

Your poem newist is really fine
Out of the four I enjoyed each line.
To improve perfection is not easy
The completing word here must be 'peasy'

We shiver in the bitter winds
But while amongst our gransnet friends
Let our fellowship give warmth
To those with cold and fireless hearths

Galen that is so lovely

I'm not very good at poems
In fact I'm quite lacking in rhyme
So if ever I write one, I hope
It will be a bit better next time

That is much better than mine

Newist, yours was very good
In fact it quite inspired me
I'm off to bed now and I hope
Tomorrow, I'll still find me

GNHQ watch and listen
But very rarely intervene
Are they real is the question
Or are they ? Oooooooooo--- help I'm being kidnapped by aliens!

Hold on Galen give us your hand
Against the aliens we'll make a stand.
No way will they steel you from our clutches
We'll lock them up in rabbit hutches.

Thank you Liz, I'm really glad
The clutch of aliens drives me mad
GNHQ should be restrained
Otherwise they'll steal our brains

That poem was my first and only go,
I have never written, But Hay Ho,
You are all so good and clever,
Will I reach your standard .Never

And now I must repair to bed
I'm feeling well and truly fed
So goodnight all until tomorrow
I'm sure that further verse will follow!

2 Ys U R
2 Ys U B
I C U R
2 Ys 4 me.
I've always liked this verse,
I remember it of yore
I thought it really clever when
My aunt wrote it in my new autograph book when I was only four.

( Actually I was eight at the time
But unfortunatlely that didn't rhyme)

Hunt that is lovely that you remember what your Aunt wrote

newist

Mine's really a song (to the tune of Westering Home) called 'Care Home'

Festering Home with a pong in the air
Blight to the eye and its goodbye to care
No Laughter, No Love and No Welcoming there,
I love my Hearth - my own one!

(No offence intended to any particular care home - the words just popped into my head - honest)

My friends on Gransnet I do find
Are keen of wit and sharp of mind
Advice they give and comfort more
Of friendly ear you can be sure

Ooops !! A bit of lack of attention to the problem set on my part (How many times did I tell pupils to "Read the Question twice and answer the question it asks - not the one you wished it had asked" !)

So to make amends .................

I got it wrong
About my song
Four lines of verse
Are much much worse.

Four lines, not three:
In bed. Cosy. With tea.
Gransnet on the PC.
I'm a happy entertainee.

I loved your poem Tiggypiro
It made I laugh out loud.
Brought back memories; yes I know
Prowess with needle left I cowed.

Thanks to newist, Hunt and notso
This thread is of the best
What fun its been to come on board
And enjoy a darn good jest

When my DH decided at the age of 67 to get an ipod, this
sprung into my head as he told our GD.

Grandad's got an ipod, I'm not sure what to think
It's very small and very square and very, very pink
He says he's started 'loading' tunes and told me what they were.
Rock and pop he says and Joni Mitchell - I've never heard of her

Grandad's got an ipod - I think it's made nan mad.
'He never listens to me' she said 'and now he's twice as bad'.
'Wandering round the garden singing loudly with each song.
out of tune, very loud and getting most words wrong.'

Grandad's got an ipod - he asked me if I would
Recommend some 'modern stuff', I said I thought I could.
'I quite like Kylie' grandad said, 'I always knew she'd last'.
'That's not modern though' I said 'that's way back in the past'.

Grandad's got an ipod, nan says he's an old fool.
I have to say I can't agree, I think it's pretty cool.

(Should we be copyrighting our poems ladies?)

Four is a discipline much too hard.
It cramps the style and twists the gut
Of every hopeful GN bard
Swaloowing words and staying shut

Up.