MY DAD , SAM , THE WHIRLING DERVISH by David Nuttall

               Me dad Sam he was a keen gardener
               His allotment he'd fettle each day.
               He grew flowers and spuds and tomatoes
               And unselfishly gave them away.
               His spade and all tools he would cherish
               He'd oil them and put them in line
               He was never a man for new gadgets
               The old ones, he said , were just fine.

               His dibblers and mattocks and edgers
               With pruners and trowels and his spade
               But rarely his tools did he buy them
               Out of scrap they were all simply made.
               The bane of his life were the weeds there
               He'd let them all go much too far
               The work and the weeds...they just mounted up
               So he said ' They can stay as they are. '

               But quite soon it appeared like a jungle
               He felt sure there were plants there beneath
               So he took out his rake and got busy
               In attempts to remove each stray leaf.   
               The problems they still did remain there
               With the docks choking all out of sight
               Instead of his green tidy garden
               It still did appear quite a fright.

               But one day he had a great brainwave...
               Gardener's World.....there on page ninety two
               The answer to all of his problems
               Just buy this,,,your garden renew.
               I think it was called a .. FLAME THROWER..
               It spat fire...destroyed all in it's path.
               It was not to be toyed with....no play thing
               But it gave all his family a laugh.

               You had to pour into it...petrol
               And then hold this beast at arm's length
               You could focus the fire where you want it
               But important to know the flame's strength
               While we kids were watching intently
               He stood in that jungle....alone !!        
               But apparently no one had told him
               To the wrath of the flames he was prone .

               He carefully took out his matches
               And the dragon soon burst into life
               As he stood there..smack bang in the middle
               Just the start of his danger and strife.
               Now the flames soon became quite ferocious
               As a hot tongue of fire filled the air
               And me dad he just cried out in anguish
               With a look of confusion...despair.

               Now instead of beginning ( as YOU would )
               At the end , and then walking down.
               He began where he was ( in the middle )
               Then proceeded to turn round and round.
               The inferno swept quickly around him
               Quite marooned in the huge sea of fire
               And his voice it rose up by two octaves
               As the flames they swept higher and higher.

               I am happy to say he still has them..
               His charred boots and his eyebrows remain
               He hot-footed his way out of danger
               And he vowed not to do it again.
               The story told here has no moral
               But if he could have one more wish
               Perhaps he should act like a gardener
               And not Sam,,,the whirling dervish.