There Was A Young Man Named Hatcher

There was a young man named Hatcher
Who worked as a professional rat catcher.
He was helped by his cat,
(A feline called Matt)
And was employed by the late Lady Thatcher!



I go
But on going to bed
There is in my head
The thought
That I could be caught
And about

‘Tis the nightmare stalking
My mind
That I may
One day
Myself bare,
Heaven knows where!

There Was A Young Nun Named Louise

There was a young nun named Louise
Who’s habit it was to tease.
She donated all of the convent’s resources
To serving members of the armed forces
And she sailed the seven seas.


A turn of the key
And all is safely locked behind
My front door. Yet I find
That my troubles follow me.

I can not agree
With those who say
“Go away on holiday”,
For your troubles will with you stay.

True, there are drink and sunny beaches
Where girls, juicy as ripe peaches
Will soothe away your worries.
But time (often unnoticed) hurries
On and the holidays are too soon gone.
And you return
To the fact that can not be spurned.

A Review Of My Collection Of Poetry “My Old Clock I Wind”

I was pleased to receive the following review of “My Old Clock I Wind” (audio download from Audible):

“I originally read this as an eBook, and wrote the following review for it:

quote;This is another excellent collection of poems by this author. Some are amusing, like the poem “Howling At The Moon” (one of my favourites of this collection) while others are extremely thought-provoking, like “Evening Walk” (another favourite of mine from this collection). In other words, this collection is a pleasant read, filled with poems which will have you either chuckling in amusement, or lost in musings on topics most can relate to even if they haven’t spent much time considering them before.unquote;

My review still stands, though I’d like to add that it was nice to get to listen to the poems being read out. The narrator did a good job”.

(For the above review please visit To purchase “My Old Clock” please visit

“My Old Clock I Wind” is also available in ebook and paperback from Moyhill Publishing, and (ebook and audio download) from Amazon

It is also available in braille from the Royal National Institute of Blind People, quoting order number 25870603. You can call RNIB on 0303 123 9999 or go to .

‘I was much further out than you thought’

I first came across Stevie Smith’s “Not Waving But Drowning” in “The New Oxford Book of English Verse”, chosen and edited by Helen Gardner. This post certainly does the poem justice.

Charlotte Gann

IMG_20180105_125224092_HDRThe poem ‘Not Waving but Drowning’ by Stevie Smith is only twelve lines long. Yet, the first time I read it, it created in my mind, for evermore, a whole world – and life story. Not thepoet’s – or certainly not directly; no, ‘the dead one’’s:

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

The poem paints a vivid scene. We see a man waving; drowning; overhear words spoken perhaps in a crowd – at least, I picture a small knot of people gathering on the shore; maybe, someone quoted in the local news – a witness. (And Stevie Smith did get her original inspiration from a newspaper story, she said.) But these aren’t just casual bystanders; they also know or knew the man, at least in passing. Maybe they’re neighbours, or…

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There Was A Young Minimalist Named Paul

There was a young minimalist named Paul
Who lived in a very bare hall.
When his friends came round
They sat on the ground
As he had no furniture at all!