Top
title
div
Tall Tales
 
div
 
THE GARDENER'S STORY
by
E.A. Searson and Herbert Townsend

performed by
Bransby Williams

A small lemon please, thank you kindly.
Nothing in it?... no thank you, not me.
I'm a tote, though I wasn't, not always.
I used to drink frequent and free.
I don't say it boastful, that's silly,
But I did use to do the job brown.
And when I at last gave up the tiddley,
There was more than one pub that shut down
My job? I'm a Gardener when working,
I'm resting just now, so to speak,
But if the missus ain't better by Monday,
Someone must do something next week.
I took a dislike to the Gardening
Thro' a 'orrid experience I 'ad
Which came as a shock to the system
And was very near driving me mad.
I'd been taking my lotion too freely
Yes, matters were getting quite warm.
And as I'd run thro' the whole of my ready,
I made up my mind to reform.
So I drank what was left in the bottle
And the gentleman's garden I seeks,
Where my odd job of digging and 'oeing
'Ad been waiting for three or four weeks.
I'd been digging for several minutes,
And was taking a rest for a term.
When casting my eyes on the ground, sir
I suddenly spotted a worm.
I've seen a few worms sir, while gardening
And digging and 'oeing the beds
But this one it fair took the biscuit,
And I'm blowed if it hadn't two 'eads.
If I catch that I thought it's a fortune
'E'd fetch goodness knows what at a sale
So I let go the fork I was 'olding
And made a quick grab at his tail.
As I grasped it, it seemed to grow bigger
It was thick as my fore-arm I found.
Then before I 'ad time for much thinking
The worm went 'eads first in the ground.
I clung like grim death to the reptile,
With my fingers I took a firm 'old,
But its strength, it was simply enormous,
It pulled me right down in the mould.
But I wouldn't let go, that's my spirit,
I 'eld on for all as I was worth
So we started to go down together
Right into the bowels of the earth.
There were many more worms I kept seeing
All colours, blue, yellow and pink.
Yes, talk about back to the land sir,
It was all right for me, I don't think.
And the worst of it was that the climate
As our way we continue to force
Got warmer and warmer and warmer
As it naturally would do of course.
We got lower and still it got 'otter
In my fright I thought suddenly well,
By the temperature and the direction
We're going to, there I couldn't tell
I'd 'ave given my 'and to get back sir,
As I thought of my 'ome with a tear
I was almost releasing my 'old sir,
When I struck on a brilliant idea.
For a saying I'd many times 'eard of,
In my brain began sudden to burn
A true and a simple old proverb,
If you tread on a worm it'll turn.
And at once I resolved I'd tread on 'im,
And I prayed that my nerve mightn't fail,
It worn't easy to tread on 'im gov'ner,
And me 'anging on to 'is tail
Still I swung my feet over my shoulders,
While I still kept a grip on 'is nibs,
And I poised my 'ob-nails for a moment
Then dropped 'em bang on to 'is ribs.
And the trick worked as right as a trivet
'E suddenly slackened 'is pace,
And to my great relief, the next minute
Completely went right about face.
And 'e made for the surface like lightning
Through the same path we'd made the descent
And the sweat, it poured off me like rain, sir,
At the terrible rate that we went.
I shrieked in my terror, I did, sir,
Though of sense I was nearly bereft,
And I soon recognised the direction
We made straight for the garden we'd left.
We burst thro' the old garden border
Made a blooming great 'ole in the 'edge,
Smash'd the cucumber frame all to pieces,
And the same evening... I signed the pledge.
 
div
Top
 
Return to
' TALL TALES '
Menu
 
div
 
Monologues Home
Music Hall Home
The Forum
Pencil Portraits
Pedro Postcards
Amazon Store
 
div
 
 
 
 
div
 
Bottom