Ode To My Wellie Boots

My Wellie boots are battered

and all frayed at the top,

They cost me fifty bob

in C.D. Ellis’s shop.

They have seem better days

but they still keep water out

and that after all is what

Wellie boots are about.

I bought them on leave 

way back in 1962

and with a little care 

I reckon they’ll see me through.

We wandered winter nights
over Billy Bulson's crisp cold land
under country clear skies
a twelve bore close to hand.

They’ve tramped may a mile,

kept me dry in a Lambwaths flood

and fifty years later those

Wellie boots are still good.

I shall wear my battered boots

until my very end,

putting them on  my feet is like

communing with an old valued friend.

In my Last Will and Testment I shall

decree they are honourably burned

because that’s the fitting end

those Wellie boots have earned.

They cost me 50 bob

at C.D Ellis’s shop

and they’re now torn and battered

and well frayed at their very top.