THE TALE OF THE SMELLY WELLIES.

I must ask for your patience, while this tale I relate.

First I must take you back, to an earlier date.

In the mid nineteen thirties, in a small coastal town,

Due to wind and spring tide, a sea wall broke down.

It took weeks to repair, with bags of cement.

The more they narrowed the gap, the deeper it went.

The channel it cut, filled with foul smelling mud.

The sea wall when finished, showed no sign of the flood.

Several years later, I was there with my friend,

Wearing my brothers wellies, (Which he hated to lend.)

Being well shod, we walked over the mud,

Unaware of the channel, cut by the flood.

All at once,  Doug sank down to his chest.

I went to his help, and though we did our best,

By the time Doug got out, our roles were reversed.

My plight was so bad, we both feared the worst.

I asked him to run, and quickly get aid.

When he'd disappeared, I wished that he'd stayed.

I called as loud as I could, in the hope he would hear.

In sheer desperation, I'd conceived an idea,
 
 

If I stretched out flat under that slime,

He might reach my hand, perhaps, just in time.

Thank God it worked, to prove it I'm here.

Past things I'd forgotten, returned crystal clear.

I had heard it said, that when life's fading fast.

The mind will recall, all the things which have passed.

I now know that it's true, and I'm thankful at times.

If it wasn't the case, I'd write many less rhymes.

It wasn't my life, that I feared I would lose,

It was the wellies I wore, in place of my shoes.

Our clothes we removed, and washed in the sea.

Which although looking clean, smelt as vile as could be.

For years we told no one, what we'd had to endure,

Or why the wellies I borrowed, always smelt like a sewer.
 

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