Gordon the Gnome has lost his home,
the wind blew it away.
\"Well damn and drat, just look at that,
I have nowhere to stay.\"
He shook his head, climbed out of bed,
and took a look around.
\"Well this won\'t do, a home anew
is what must now be found.\"
He searched the hedge and window ledge,
he searched beneath each tree.
\"Too high too low and no no no
the hedge too prick-e-ly.\"
He searched the shed and flower bed,
he searched the patio.
\"The shed too tall, the beds too small,
and patio no go.\"
He searched and searched, but tired he perched,
upon a flower pot.
He kicked his feet, in soft defeat,
and stroked the terracot.
His eyes lit up, like buttercups,
he laughed and turned around.
\"Of course he said,\" nodding his head,
a new home has been found.
A flower pot,the perfect spot,
he spoke a little spell.
A window, door and new tiled floor,
flowers and wishing well.
Gordon the Gnome, now calls this home,
his searching days are done.
The kettle on for tea and scone,
enjoyed \'neath setting sun.