The Tale of Willard the Pollarder
Willard the pollarderPollards my willow
He pollards my willow well ’ard.
I lie on my pillow
And dream I’m a willow
Pollard me! Pollard me, Willard!
My willow is woven
by Gerde von Oven,
A Dutchman who also makes cheese.
Though Gerde the hurdler
is also a curdler
It’s Willard whom I wish to please.
It’s almost a tenet,
If a man smells of rennet,
You’re better off dating his friend.
Though Willard’s so brawny
My willow’s now scrawny;
Oh when can I call him again?
Willard the pollarder
Pollards my willow,
The willow that grows by the pond
He lays into that stripling
With muscles a-rippling,
His pollarder’s arms are so strong.
As, lucky for me,
It’s a fast-growing tree,
Willard’ll be back before long
I’ll enjoy all the more-so
His glistening torso
For having waited a while.
My willow’s now scrawny;
Oh when can I call him again?
Willard the pollarder
Pollards my willow,
The willow that grows by the pond
He lays into that stripling
With muscles a-rippling,
His pollarder’s arms are so strong.
As, lucky for me,
It’s a fast-growing tree,
Willard’ll be back before long
I’ll enjoy all the more-so
His glistening torso
For having waited a while.
I’ll bring him his tea
And offer him me
(I hope he’ll see that in my smile)
Willard the pollarder
Pollards my willow
He pollards my willow well ’ard.
I lie on my pillow
And dream I’m a willow
Pollard me! Pollard me, Willard!
And offer him me
(I hope he’ll see that in my smile)
Willard the pollarder
Pollards my willow
He pollards my willow well ’ard.
I lie on my pillow
And dream I’m a willow
Pollard me! Pollard me, Willard!
Contents
The Ballad of Danny Wise Page 1 of 3
Now gather round and let me tell
The tale of Danny Wise:
And how his sweet wife Annabelle
Did suck out both his eyes.
And if I tell the story true
And if I tell it clear
There’s not a mortal one of you
Won’t shriek in mortal fear.
Our story starts upon the day
(The 30th of June)
That Mr Wise received his pay
A little after noon.
The factory where Danny worked
Used boxes by the tonne
And Danny’s boss was sorely irked
When boxes were there none.
“You lot sod off” he yelled in vain
After hours on the phone.
“The supply chain’s a total pain
So you can all go home.”
And thus it was we find our Dan,
That fateful day in June,
About to become a lesser man
On a Wednesday afternoon.
He knocks upon his own front door
(His key he has forgotten)
But Mrs Wise is on the floor;
That whore is misbegotten.
How can Dan know what fate will bring?
Her virtue lies in tatters
As Anna shows to Mr Singh
Her everything that matters.
After hours on the phone.
“The supply chain’s a total pain
So you can all go home.”
And thus it was we find our Dan,
That fateful day in June,
About to become a lesser man
On a Wednesday afternoon.
He knocks upon his own front door
(His key he has forgotten)
But Mrs Wise is on the floor;
That whore is misbegotten.
How can Dan know what fate will bring?
Her virtue lies in tatters
As Anna shows to Mr Singh
Her everything that matters.
Now let’s rewind so we can find
What Danny’s going to see
And you tell me if you think he’ll mind
When he finds the hidden key.
When Singh had wanted anal sex
Anna’d been all a-twitter.
He asked just once and “Oh heck yes!
I’ll take it up the shitter”.
Vikram Singh kept the corner shop.
He brought her love and fruit,
Always the firmest of the crop,
Especially for her chute.
One time they tried it with a marrow
(Risking diarrhoea)
But Anna’s passage was too narrow
For cucurbitaceae.
What Danny’s going to see
And you tell me if you think he’ll mind
When he finds the hidden key.
When Singh had wanted anal sex
Anna’d been all a-twitter.
He asked just once and “Oh heck yes!
I’ll take it up the shitter”.
Vikram Singh kept the corner shop.
He brought her love and fruit,
Always the firmest of the crop,
Especially for her chute.
One time they tried it with a marrow
(Risking diarrhoea)
But Anna’s passage was too narrow
For cucurbitaceae.
The Ballad of Danny Wise Page 2 of 3
The only time that they could find
To get the poppers popping
(The amyl eases her behind)
Was Wednesdays
– half day shopping.
I’m worried that you can’t abide
Our Vik; you think he’s sick.
So let us take a quick aside
To see what makes Vik tick:
Young Vikram saw dad do to mum
Things no young lad should see
And things that once were up her bum
Were later served for tea.
His student days he spent in Thanet
Where Janet he did find
They practiced with a pomegranate
That fitted her behind.
Vik took a room with Mrs Goringe
Whose morals were too loose,
She liked to squeeze the boy an orange
So he could drink her juice.
In Thanet Vikram learned his art
Of vegetable seduction
No farmer he, he made a start
On retail, not production.
His ladies’ fingers always please.
If she’s a little coy,
He’ll understand and gently tease
With celery and pak choi.
As hapless Dan, that poor box man,
Is looking under bricks,
The two indoors are trying yams
In case they make good pricks.
Whose morals were too loose,
She liked to squeeze the boy an orange
So he could drink her juice.
In Thanet Vikram learned his art
Of vegetable seduction
No farmer he, he made a start
On retail, not production.
His ladies’ fingers always please.
If she’s a little coy,
He’ll understand and gently tease
With celery and pak choi.
As hapless Dan, that poor box man,
Is looking under bricks,
The two indoors are trying yams
In case they make good pricks.
Dan finds the key and opens up,
His solitary concern:
A cup of tea in a china cup,
But we know what he’ll learn.
The lovers with their fruit and veg
Are horrified to hear
(She’s brought back from the very edge
By) “Annabelle, my dear”.
Dan’s in the hall and calling out.
They hear his steps approach
But trouble with a Brussels sprout
Is sure to cause reproach.
“Oh Mr Singh!” said Dan in shock,
He felt such jealous passion
To see his Anna choc-a-block
With veg in such a fashion.
His solitary concern:
A cup of tea in a china cup,
But we know what he’ll learn.
The lovers with their fruit and veg
Are horrified to hear
(She’s brought back from the very edge
By) “Annabelle, my dear”.
Dan’s in the hall and calling out.
They hear his steps approach
But trouble with a Brussels sprout
Is sure to cause reproach.
“Oh Mr Singh!” said Dan in shock,
He felt such jealous passion
To see his Anna choc-a-block
With veg in such a fashion.
The Ballad of Danny Wise Page 3 of 3
He’d found the key beneath brick three
And still it’s in his hand;
The brick, I mean, and not the key.
You guess where it will land.
He swung a fist at our shopkeep,
The fist that held the brick,
And the naked Sikh, in a crumpled heap,
Lay dead in a puddle of sick.
The trouble with a Brussels sprout
For lovers in a hurry
Is how to get the bastard out
It can be such a worry.
And that is how it came to pass
The plunger for unblocking
Was jammed too far up Anna’s arse
When Dan he came a-knocking.
So as she wailed and knelt beside
Her dying lover’s frame
Danny Wise could see his bride
As a dalek taking aim.
She yanked it out of her rear spout
And turned on Dan in fury.
There was no doubt she meant to clout
(As she would tell the jury)
The plunger for unblocking
Was jammed too far up Anna’s arse
When Dan he came a-knocking.
So as she wailed and knelt beside
Her dying lover’s frame
Danny Wise could see his bride
As a dalek taking aim.
She yanked it out of her rear spout
And turned on Dan in fury.
There was no doubt she meant to clout
(As she would tell the jury)
But the look of hate on Danny’s face
Was more that she could bear.
She could have used it as a mace
But decided then and there
To plunge the sucker in his eyes
His optic nerves to sever.
She took the eyes of Danny Wise
To hide that look forever.
Coming home early, to my mind
Was Danny’s only crime.
And finding veg in his wife’s behind.
Poor Dan: wrong place, wrong time.
Was more that she could bear.
She could have used it as a mace
But decided then and there
To plunge the sucker in his eyes
His optic nerves to sever.
She took the eyes of Danny Wise
To hide that look forever.
Coming home early, to my mind
Was Danny’s only crime.
And finding veg in his wife’s behind.
Poor Dan: wrong place, wrong time.
The first two verses of The Ballad of Danny Wise © Stephen Fry
Doggerel Style
Your bum, your neck, your eyes, your thighs,Your soul, your mind, your heart,
Every scrumptious inch of you,
I don't know where to start...
Do I kiss your hair and work on down?
Or lick your toes and then proceed
To pussy, tummy, freckles, nose,
To satisfy your need?
Or do I woo you, win your mind,
With laughter joy and fun?
Or do I simply hold your tits,
and shag you up the bum?
