The Parish Church of St George the Martyr, Waterlooville

Green Things

There are green things in my bread, Mum

And I really can’t think why.

Perhaps it’s something rather awful

That’s been dropped down from the sky.

Is it a sign that the end is near

And how should I prepare?

I’d better eat my chocolate bar

And is my comic there?

There are green things in my bread, Mum,

It really is a scream.

Will we get into the papers?

Will I get to meet the Queen?

Have the Aliens landed?

Is it some kind of seed?

Will I become like one of them

Or turn into a weed?

There are green things in my bread, Mum,

Yellow and black things too.

But they’re not so good as green things,

I think green is best, don’t you?

And what about this -

Perhaps it’s a plot by the store

To kill off all the customers

So they can’t come back for more.

There are green things in my bread, Mum,

But no matter how I try

I can’t think who has put them there

Nor find the reason why.

Lynn Winter

Summer 2015

St George’s Book of Poems

We have the space in this issue to revive the series of Poems taken from the first edition of St George’s Book of Poems, which we believe dates back to 1998 …..


Down sunlit slopes of snow I slide,

A zigzag slither side to side,

And watch the others as they glide.

I wonder how they do it.

The instructor’s words I always hear,

Making sure I stand so near,

I’m almost sitting in his ear.

You’d think that I could do it.

And as we waddle to and fro,

And down the nursery slopes we go,

It’s me that crashes in the snow.

How do the others do it?

Then suddenly it comes to me,

This is the way you learn to ski.

The knack of it, like ABC.

I know just how to do it!

And from that day down mountains ski.

That small red speck is really me.

I fly like wind, so wild and free.

You betcha I can do it.

And now the others look to me,

As dignified and calm I ski.

And watch their falls with open glee.

They wonder how I do it.

And finally on the last day

We pack our skis and go our way,

There’s only one thing left to say.

I always knew I’d do it!

Janet Johnson