Bronze Men

The Museum poet has been at it again

In the corner of the Ground Floor,
there’s a place for boat repair;
but now the craft have been removed,
our men no longer there.

There’s a bunch of new arrivals
dressed in brown with unkempt hair;
they’ve come from east of Cornwall,
(not sure exactly where).

Apparently they’re Bronze Age men,
(I thought you ought to know);
They’re going to make a vintage boat
for Volunteers to row!!!

They speak a language of their own
with lots of signs and grunting;
it’s Neolithic - how they talk
when foraging or hunting!!

They seem to get enjoyment
with Wedges and an Axe,
just hitting lumps of seasoned wood,
until the timber cracks!!

And when they’ve split a lot of planks,
they’ll sew them all together,
No nails or screws or modern glues,
(sounds dodgy in bad weather).

I suppose they’ve had permission,
and know Health & Safety Rules;
I guess they’ve sent their people
to Wood Henge Training Schools.

When it comes to lunchtime,
I’m not sure what they’ll do –
I’ve checked up with the Café
and they don’t make Nettle Stew.

Mike Pennell