Gnomes

Where are the gnomes of yesteryear?

Gone fishing.

Packed their rods and their pipes

to go a-roaming,

a travelling gnoming?

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From Anatolia to Thuringia,

the Gartenzwerge 

dug their way westwards

like underground ninjas.

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But fate was not kind to gnome-kind:

Sir Charles Isham's 21 come to mind.

Shipped to inhabit his English rockery,

founded our garden gnome tradition.

fine terracotta, they were broken crockery

when his daughter consigned them to perdition.

Just Lampy survived the slaughter,

a lonely gnome, he stayed home, alone

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The outlook for gnomes grew exceeding grim,

their lifetime prospects all too dim.

At Briey Bridge in 1997

the Garden Gnome Liberation Front

mass suicided eleven:

weary of being mere decoration,

it was a terminal gnomic operation.

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Mischievous, cheery, bearded, hairy,

grumpy grown gnomes grew increasing wary.

Banned by the Chelsea Flower Show,

they sought elsewhere for where to go.

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The Front de Liberation des Nains du Jardin

gnome-napped gnomes from people's gardens;

set them free in a local forest.

but the gnomes missed their homes,

because home is best.

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Demand for gnomes has strangely risen

despite being objects of derision,.

Come back, gnomes, with your fishing rod,

your pick and shovel, your brickie hod.

England needs you, and the devolved administrations-

come back home to your friends and relations.

Oh hirsute gnomes of yesteryear,

we'll bribe you with trout streams and tankards of beer.

Come back, gnomes, our Gartenzwerge,

stay with us for ever and ever!

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