In the U.K., of course a sweater is really a jumper,here I use some North American Poetastic licence.
..One evening when Godfrey was footloose a strolling, still not far from home on the long road to France, it was winter and chilly and Godfrey was happy that under his kilt he had on wooly pants.He slept out in the heather on a broad wooded common, he had recently left old OGrodnick’s sheep farm, this night it was snowing,wind cold up the kilt blowing and he missed his snug hut behind the old barn.
Later on the next morning he met a young woman, she said she’d been living two years in a tree, in pale winter sunshine there she sat on a hay bale, he said I do not like beets, hello I am Godfrey.She replied I am Hazel, people look at me oddly,I wear many sweaters and my home is a tree.Godfrey sat down beside her and said I wont judge you for wearing 5 sweaters please tell me your story.
Oh when I was a youngster I stole a ham sandwich, I was hungry and stole it from the Brit-Rail Buffet.Tis a heinous crime to steal a sandwich from Brit-Rail it was nasty and cold where they sent me- The Old Reading Jail. A nice lady in the jail gave me a sweater,I was given warm sweaters until I had 5. All I need in the world is my guitar and warm sweaters, I sing on the streets of Newbury and Clive. I no longer snitch from the Brit-Rail buffet, I see you carry bag-pipes how well do you play?
Play music they did in the town market square, until the coppers shifted the pair out of there. Hazel said to Godfrey over ham sandwich and tea,Ive been snagged on barbed wire, My cuffs singed over many a campfire,chased by a Police dog into a pipe, but he could not bite me get a fang through my many sweaters.
Godfrey said when they parted, from France I will sail, to Australia warm far away. Hazel laughed, thinking that years ago, I would have been sent there for stealing from Brit-rail…Hazel strummed a farewell tune as Godfrey set out, from the woods, through the deep snow,Hazel met up with Godfrey many years ago.She wore many sweaters, her stories been told,Hazel wore many sweaters to keep out the cold.
THE 11th WISDOM- I met up with Godfrey at a hostel in Paris France, he was wringing out his wet socks into the potted plants,he was wringing out his wet socks and when I asked him why? He looked at me so serious, said Ma always told me keep my feet warm and dry.
Godfrey told me his plaid suitcase held many pairs of socks,he liked the pretty argyle one with the fringe around the top. We played scrabble late into the night, he made it clear that he disliked beets. Godfrey spelled out words like Quenders,Zarf, and Quet. He told me the best laxative,was walking barefoot in deep sand. He was the oddest chap I have ever met.
Godfrey left for Australia, was on a winter morning. Cold it was but bright and clear, was a Polish Liner, The Stefan Angeloff,Godfrey left by ship and I am still here.
And he wrote me when he got there of his long journey far across the sea,he washed dishes for his passage, he entertained with his bagpipes, sitting high up on the bow for free. He reported it was glorious except when beets were served, oft times appearing breakfast, lunch and tea. As was his habit, all beets went down the Loo and he had a great time playing Polish scrabble with the ships crew.
His 11th wisdom came to him , lying out on deck, warm now neath the stars of the Southern Sky..HE STATES, LONG AS YOU CAN SEE OPEN SKY, LONG AS YOUR FEET ARE WARM AND DRY- ALL THE REST IS MERELY MINOR DETAIL.As told to Beatrice by Mr Victor Gruau.