STAN

STAN

In our village lived old Stan
A character and a gentle man
Grey wisps of hair, worn  face, veined nose
Dressed in a scarecrow’s cast off clothes
But no beggar he, nor wandering vagrant
He was proud and fiercely independent
Past  wife or kids remained unknown
Perhaps he’d always lived alone

In his little cottage decked with thatch
His pride and joy his  garden patch
Where every day he’d work and toil
To cultivate on his plot of soil
Vegetables – giant horticultural freaks
Of lettuce, carrots, beans and leeks
Which every year, to no surprises
In the Produce Show won all the prizes

Except  – the one which had him beat -
For prize marrow he’d always face defeat
From green-fingered rival Thomas Worth
Whose specimens of enormous girth
Dwarfed those of Stan in each dimension
Till at last Stan declared his intention
To abandon all  his other veg.
And solemnly to take the pledge
Next year the marrow prize to win
And so Stan's challenge did begin.

With unsurpassed determination
From sowing   through to  germination
From seedling until in full flower
Stan spent many a  waking hour
Ensuring his marrows   had the best
Of nutrients and were free from pests
And  when their fruit began to grow
The strongest he prepared for show

Day and night he kept it guarded
Lest its growth should be retarded
By too much rain or sun or frost
He fed it with a liquid compost
Till it swelled to an enormous size
But to be sure that he'd win the prize
The eve of Show he played unfair
And topped it up with compressed air

To the hall he took it on his barrow
Where judged the best was Stanley's marrow
A rosette on a golden pin
The judge stuck in the marrow's skin
Thus the pent-up air, released from pressure
Sought escape through the tiny fissure
The vegetable exploded like a bomb
And Stan was blown to Kingdom come

In accordance with his views expressed
In his garden he was laid to rest
His body the soil to fertilise
And a stone to tell to curious eyes
'Here lies Stan in bed so narrow
Here today, gone to marrow'
But when the moon is full up in the sky
And  his cottage you pass by
A shadow moves but take no fright
Stan still waters his plants at  night!