by C. A. Dickens It were late in September, last August At almost a quarter past two. When Jim got a case of the fidgets, 'Cause he had got nothin' to do. Jim were an active old bugger Moving around. on the go. He always had to do summat, He couldn't sit still for a 'mo! Now Jim had a fair reputation For fixing things. when they were broke He loved it when folks brought him problems, 'Cause he were that kind of a bloke. He loved a good challenge to test him And mainly he'd do it for t'fun He'd get stuck in, when the experts Announced "that it could not be done" He'd take on all sorts of daft projects But he wouldn't charge you a fee. He just liked to bathe in the glory So apart from that; it were free. Now, this day (for some unknown reason), Jim was not feeling too bright. But was not aware; it were one o' those days: When nothing was going to go right. Jim was bored out of his trolley And hoping that someone would call Wi' summat that they needed fixing. But no-one came round, .. not at all. So then Jim decided. he'd have to Create a few jobs of his own. An' get his-sen summat exciting to do; It were boring just sat on his own. He nearly got started on t'garden He even had hold of a rake; When his eye caught the sight of a window. Where t'paint were beginning to flake. Now Jim were a tidy old fella Who liked everything in its place. An' the sight of this messy old paintwork To Jim, was a shameful disgrace. Ha ha! chortled Jim, Now I've got you! His face came alight with a smile. I'll get that job sorted this instant. An have summat to do for a while. Discarding the rake, for the moment, He sped off to look in the shed. For blowlamps and scrapers and paintbrush The excitement had gone to his head. Despite being tidy, in general He wasn't when storing his tools An' kept losing the things that he needed And just didn't stick to the rules Soon he were a' cursin' and swearin' His mind had gone right off its track Giving some other poor bugger the blame For 'taking and not bringing back.' But he knew in his heart it were pointless, as he regained his composure, and then; Started to think where he used 'em before, He'd no-one to blame, but him-sen. So he took all the stuff out the garage And laid it all out on the ground To sort in an orderly fashion And could not believe what he found. As he studied each drawer and each toolbox For items that should not be there He put them all back where they should be; With extreme and infinite care. With everything tidy and back in its place He stood and admired his work Having his workshop so spotless Jim felt; was a really good perk He'd found all the tools that he needed So he picked up the blowlamp and stuff To start burning off the old paintwork And smoothing down all of the rough. A ladder was needed to reach it 'Cause the window was over the door But as soon as he had ascended. He dropped half his tools on the floor. So back down the ladder he clambered And just for a moment he stopped And while he were there; lit his blowlamp And picked up the stuff he had dropped He got to the top of the ladder And thought how he'd get on with ease. But as soon as he started to burn off the paint The blowlamp blew out in the breeze He reached in his pocket for t'lighter But nowhere could it be found And as he looked down in frustration He saw it, below, On the ground. So back down the ladder he trundled He fetched it. Then climbed up again. Then spotted the scraper was missing He knew that he'd had it, but when? So once more dismounted the ladder He scanned all around and stood still. Then glancing back up at the window... The scraper was up on the sill. Back up the ladder he travelled Assured he was fully equipped But just as he arrived at the summit He lost his composure and slipped. He grabbed at the ladder to save him From falling and breaking his neck But all of his tools went airborne And fell back down onto the deck. Now seething, Jim once more descended Back down the ladder, and then Gathering all of his tools up He went up the ladder AGAIN! Taking deep breaths in to soothe him He whistled, then started to sing But as soon as he lit up his blowlamp The telephone started to ring. I do not believe it, Jim snorted He laughed, but with no sign of mirth And gritting his teeth he started to climb Back down the ladder to earth. When Jim picked the phone up to answer He heard a voice, merry and bright; Offering new double glazed windows They were "working his area, that night" It took all his patience resisting An answer profane and profound But glancing outside at the ladder, Said. Sod it! ...When can you come round?
The end