Fred, Ted and Ned.

 

I have a mate whose name is Fred.

“I’d like a verse,” is what he said.

 

So I sat down with sharpened lead,

and penned some lines that end in ‘ed’.

 

I wrote about a horse named Ned,

whose owner’s name was Mister Ted.

 

He built that horse a fancy shed;

He shod him, groomed him, kept him fed.

 

Ned had a rug of crimson red,

embroidered with a golden thread.

 

He wore that rug when Mister Ted,

last Sunday rode to church to wed

 

his girlfriend who had bravely led

an army – she had battle cred!

 

Then after vows they quickly sped,

along the road in wooden sled.

The sled was pulled, of course, by Ned.

The reins were held by Missus Ted,

 

while Mister Ted laid out a spread

of cakes and biscuits, jam and bread.

 

But now this verse must end dear Fred,

I’ve no more ‘eds’ left in my head!

 

Caroline Tuohey