Watson and Holmes went camping,
One fine, clear summer’s day,
They pitched their tent in a large, green field,
Surrounded by high, bright, hay.
They sat round the campfire.
Holmes smoking on his pipe,
And Watson writing in his diary,
Which later he would type.
When at last they went in the tent,
As tiredness upon them crept,
They slid upon their camp beds,
And on them they just slept.
At three o’clock that morning,
Or maybe there about,
Holmes awoke with quite a start,
And to Watson gave a shout.
“Watson, wake and look, what do you see?”
“I see a clear sky full of stars,
With the bright moon shining over us,
And above me there is Mars”
“Your vision of the stars above
Dear Watson is not tricked
But all that I can now deduce
Is that our tent has just been nicked”
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Author:
Goldfinch60 (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 12th, 2024 01:07
- Comment from author about the poem: A laugh for a Sunday Morning
- Category: Humor
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet, Teddy.15.
Offline)
Comments6
A moral tale - remaining completely rational in difficult circumstances will win the day (or night) ....but will it lead to the return of the tent......?
Thoroughly amused, Andy.
Thanks Dave, glad to make you and anyone be amused, laughter is a great medicine.
Andy
Oh lol, good write Gold.
Thanks Orchi.
😁👍
👍👍👍
🤣 oh so funny, imagery and rhyme superb, oh Andy, fabulous. 🌹 You must have been on Clapham common ! LoL
So very kind Teddy, very much appreciated.
Andy
Are you sure Watson wasn't smoking the pipe?
Yes I am sure 2781, Holmes wouldn't let him. LOL
Andy
Hysterical. I needed that.
Glad to bring laughter's medication to you Thomas.
Andy
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