The ballad of Midsomer Stone
poem by:
Stuart Gardiner
Written
on Sep 03, 2016
The bawdy ballad of Midsomer Stones The dirty deeds in Midsomer Stones A direct challenge to Barnaby and Jones A murder most foul in the village stocks A young man pelted to death by rocks And two more bodies in quick succession One stabbed in the heart, one poisoned by venison Old Mrs Phelps in her house of thatch Knitting a cardigan and socks to match Single-minded in this pressing pursuit To win a prize at the women’s institute A sweet old lady, butter wouldn’t melt But in that stooped frame a secret dwelt That very day she’s eaten an excellent meal Of half of that nice young Mr Beal Together with all the trimmings of course Nicely topped with mushroom sauce The one-legged postman could only peep At the nubile schoolmistress whose fees were too steep And the churchwarden, bald as the proverbial pear Rather enjoyed sniffing ladies underwear In all the hills and valleys of the shire No-one collected postcards like the village squire Which, not to go into the fine detail, Were enough to turn a sailor pale One day Scruffy, the village basset hound Was chewing on some body parts he found A closer inspection would reveal The arm and leg of the late Mr Beal Fred, the plumber’s, business grew Inserting his pipes in Mrs Goddard’s flue And the ancient church organist, Neville Buck Played the organ with vigour, though not a note was struck You’ve got the picture, behind the picket fence Lurked a wild and wonderful decadence And at Cawston Nick, they called for aid Two top cops for a village raid Those two old darlings, Barnaby and Jones, The guys to clean up Midsomer Stones Well, they found Mrs Phelps – easy to discern The poor old girl had bad heart burn They arrested the squire and the good Mrs Price (Another old lady devoted to vice) And as a result the boys in blue Rounded up half the village, and the basset hound too These days the village you would miss as you drive Yet it’s only 10 miles off the M5 There’s no one left, and it’s going to seed Decrepit old houses and gardens of weed You see, half have left to find excitement elsewhere Longing to forget the crime wave affair And the other half of Midsomer Stones Are in Cawston nick, courtesy Barnaby and Jones sg
Tags: humor,
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Allan P Stevens commented:
Excellent, I really enjoyed reading. I usually get bored after a couple verses but this kept me interested to the end. well done.
Josh Rogan
commented:
We love the show too. (We're not over keen on the new-ish fella though, but, we still watch it). Great fun poem. Enjoyed it a lot.
