MY MATE JIMMY

Poet

by Monty M Chaffer

My favourite day has just arrived.
I’m out of bed as fast as one can.
With my jam sandwiches under arm.
I kiss the missus and thank her all I can.
I borrow down to the bottom of the garden.
Where Jimmy’s waiting patiently in his flashy miners’ cart.
“Off to work we go,” we sing. What luck we have.
When we work with earth’s yummy muck.

We arrive on site in plenty of time, so sit and think about what delights a blast might bring.
The bell rings and off we go, Jimmy, my friend and I.
South Pallant’s Roman wall is scheduled for a blow.
We check, we smell, we studied the wall
Yep it’s fragile and ripe to go.
A few sticks of dynamite will do, you know.
The foreman squeaks from back BEHIND the mound.

With safety helmets on and protective specs over our peeps.
We throw our red sticks of marked blast-a-mite.
scurry back to safety with glee and delight, where A detonator awaits!, posed and
primed like a shining beacon of flickering light.
We gather around, giggling with delight
as we wait for the foreman’s green light.

NO more time to go!, it’s time to blow some hole.
Systems are all lit up and the countdown begins.
Ten, nine, eight, seven and so…, our song goes.
Take cover Jimmy! here it comes, the countdown has just left ‘one’,
BOOOOOOOOM, BOOOOOOM, BOOOOOOOM….
and BOOOOOOM?????.

Oh no Jimmy! What have you done?
You’ve blown up all of South Pallant’s famous wall.
You must have used more sticks than normal.
Three sticks Jimmy!, not four, that’s the norm!!!