Poetry by Jeff Green


Celebrating in Style (The Bindybandy way)

by cricketjeff on July 7, 2009.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

In Bindybandy-on-the-Sand
A celebration feast is planned
The invitations have been sent
The tables ordered, and a tent
The band will play from ten to four
(They know three tunes, so that’s a bore!)

The people mill expectantly
From rather after ten to three
It rained last night, the ground is damp
But drier than the army camp.
Good natured games of throw the child
Stop hungry hoards from turning wild

By six the crowd have stopped the band
(They buried us neck deep in sand)
They’ve changed their happy attitude
And started yelling “Serve the food!!!”
They don’t detect much cooking smell,
Inside the tent things don’t go well

The Queen was busy, so she says,
And blames her staff for lazy ways
The staff say “Nay, it’s not for us;
We asked the driver of the bus”
The driver isn’t there tonight
That wise man knew there’d be a fight

The problem now identified
They’re barricaded up inside
The planning stage did not include
The thought they ought to order food
They searched the Queendom high and low
As far away as Dong-on-Bow

An answer falls from Maisie’s lips
Send out for ninety cod and chips
And well before the crowd are dead
Two thirds of them are quickly fed
The chips are great, the fish is grand
In Bindybandy-on-the-Sand

Author notes

Bindybandy, I am sure you all know, is the smallest country on Earth with more than twelve land borders. Squeezed between Congo and Kazakhstan on the East and California and Georgia on the West, it has a very dry temperate climate, when compared to Newfoundland.

I like to visit by train, from New Zealand.