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granfer rogershe was early to bed and up with the lark he got the copper house fire going all he did was to spark he went milking the cows getting eggs from the hens then he cleaned them all out new straw in their pens he mucked out the pig styes he gave out the corn he worked so very hard every new morn his pigeons were champions his ganders were free then he always drank many a nice cup of tea he played at the darts played shove halfpenny too liked to drop in to the snake pub boozer too he dug his allotments grew trees by the score then he hid on the heath coming home from first war he made bricks at the brickyard just cross the way from our Manning's estate he loved just to play he smoked of the baccy digger the shag then he caught rabbits too with ferrets he kept in a bag he loved all the children he told them some tales the yarns that he told them he drove vauxhall cars he once had an Austin 7 too then he drove it from Exeter it still here in Poole he worked at the foundry night watchman there he had scores of dogs took them everywhere he had goats on their chains goldfinches too everyone knew him Reg Rogers of Poole he had eight children n cared for me too he was expert bricky builder wore laced up shoes his trousers had braces his cap was always there he had a friendly smile an lots of his hair his wife's name was Alice she was salvation's queen he was methodist their place was a good scene out on the common the heathlands so free of Manning's n canford just down from alderney his roots were in kinson his durzet was broad he lived by his word not by the sword he had just two acres of land in the dip then Phillips claimed it then Poole let it slip he was a great writer of love letters too wrote many a sonnet doubt if Alice knew he read chatterly lover when it was banned kept fanny hill too inside a glass band well at hand he told of the cuckoo of stoborough set free three old crows he taught em to me he was wise in his ways he was quick on the spin then he rode his pony he was out on a limb he was a master of farming the natural kind didn't use fertilizer just what cows n pigs left behind his fruit was delicious his eggs they were range free he was well known by ladies n loved by me Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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