Round Round
In the grounds of the roundhouse, some time after dawn,
there’s the sound of a small yet almighty machine –
Gardener Gordon’s out, mowing the circular lawn!
Pigeons watch from the poplars, their amber eyes keen.
There’s the sound of a small yet almighty machine
with a motor rotating a swift-spinning blade –
pigeons watch from the poplars, their amber eyes keen;
squirrels smile as they twirl in the neighbouring glade!
With a motor rotating a swift-spinning blade,
Gardener Gordon’s quite quick to complete his first chore;
squirrels smile as they twirl in the neighbouring glade,
while a spiralling flock of rooks calls to him: “Cor!”
Gardener Gordon’s quite quick to complete his first chore;
let’s turn on an electric ring, start making teas,
while a spiralling flock of rooks calls to him: “Cor!” –
there’ll be biscuits for all, on a plate, plain and cheese!
Let’s turn on an electric ring, start making teas;
Gardener Gordon’s out, mowing the circular lawn!
There’ll be biscuits for all, on a plate, plain and cheese,
in the grounds of the roundhouse, some time after dawn.
there’s the sound of a small yet almighty machine –
Gardener Gordon’s out, mowing the circular lawn!
Pigeons watch from the poplars, their amber eyes keen.
There’s the sound of a small yet almighty machine
with a motor rotating a swift-spinning blade –
pigeons watch from the poplars, their amber eyes keen;
squirrels smile as they twirl in the neighbouring glade!
With a motor rotating a swift-spinning blade,
Gardener Gordon’s quite quick to complete his first chore;
squirrels smile as they twirl in the neighbouring glade,
while a spiralling flock of rooks calls to him: “Cor!”
Gardener Gordon’s quite quick to complete his first chore;
let’s turn on an electric ring, start making teas,
while a spiralling flock of rooks calls to him: “Cor!” –
there’ll be biscuits for all, on a plate, plain and cheese!
Let’s turn on an electric ring, start making teas;
Gardener Gordon’s out, mowing the circular lawn!
There’ll be biscuits for all, on a plate, plain and cheese,
in the grounds of the roundhouse, some time after dawn.
This poem is copyright (©) Felicity Teague 2025
About the Writer
Felicity Teague
Felicity Teague (Fliss for short) lives in Cheltenham, not far from Pittville Park and its wonderful wildlife. She has a very serious job in publishing and enjoys writing poems during her playtime. Her poetry has appeared in a number of journals and two years ago she published a first collection, From Pittville to Paradise. Her second collection is due out next year. She also enjoys art, birdwatching, films, music, and photography.
