Are fairies at t'end of our garden?
Do they lure us down t’old garden path?
Or is exploration there forbidden
By the overgrowth round the old bath?
Is that where we never dare venture
Into the darkness unknown?
Or could it be an adventure
a cyber world that we all own?
For lurking neath limb branches sheltering
A structure both dodgy and queer
But welcoming all nearby venturing
With coffee, tea, biscuits and beer
Containing some fine cyber gentry
A wooden door always ajar
A nail that snags woollies on entry
A bottle, but sadly no bar
Another nail dangling Frank’s glarses
For those who have difficultly reading
A cement sack to comfort our arses
Do we all know where this path's leading?
It’s a garden place over the ether
It’s where we can empty our heads
A place to escape all stress and bother
Yes it’s so called uk.rec.sheds
Tone 2024