The bawdy ballad of Midsomer Stones

by Stuart Gardiner

The bawdy ballad of Midsomer Stones

The dirty deeds in Midsomer Stones
A direct challenge to Barnaby and Jones
A murder most foul in the village stocks
A young man pelted to death by rocks
And two more bodies in quick succession
One stabbed in the heart, one poisoned by venison

Old Mrs Phelps in her house of thatch
Knitting a cardigan and socks to match
Single-minded in this pressing pursuit
To win a prize at the women’s institute

A sweet old lady, butter wouldn’t melt
But in that stooped frame a secret dwelt
That very day she’s eaten an excellent meal
Of half of that nice young Mr Beal
Together with all the trimmings of course
Nicely topped with mushroom sauce

The one-legged postman could only peep
At the nubile schoolmistress whose fees were too steep
And the churchwarden, bald as the proverbial pear
Rather enjoyed sniffing ladies underwear

In all the hills and valleys of the shire
No-one collected postcards like the village squire
Which, not to go into the fine detail,
Were enough to turn a sailor pale

One day Scruffy, the village basset hound
Was chewing on some body parts he found
A closer inspection would reveal
The arm and leg of the late Mr Beal

Fred, the plumber’s, business grew
Inserting his pipes in Mrs Goddard’s flue
And the ancient church organist, Neville Buck
Played the organ with vigour, though not a note was struck

You’ve got the picture, behind the picket fence
Lurked a wild and wonderful decadence
And at Cawston Nick, they called for aid
Two top cops for a village raid
Those two old darlings, Barnaby and Jones,
The guys to clean up Midsomer Stones

Well, they found Mrs Phelps – easy to discern
The poor old girl had bad heart burn
They arrested the squire and the good Mrs Price
(Another old lady devoted to vice)
And as a result the boys in blue
Rounded up half the village, and the basset hound too

These days the village you would miss as you drive
Yet it’s only 10 miles off the M5
There’s no one left, and it’s going to seed
Decrepit old houses and gardens of weed

You see, half have left to find excitement elsewhere
Longing to forget the crime wave affair
And the other half of Midsomer Stones
Are in Cawston nick, courtesy Barnaby and Jones

sg

From: 
Stuart Gardiner




ABOUT THE POET ~
Stuart Gardiner is an ex-journalist and business communicator. Now retired.


Last updated October 28, 2016