Uncle Calum works at farming
carrots, peas and beet.
Uncle Calum paints his beard
It’s always white and neat.
Carrots fly and turnips sing.
Beetroots dance a highland fling.
Uncle Calum Uncle Calum
He’s got tiny feet.

Uncle Calum plays a song
And pipes his Scottish clan.
Uncle Calum tried to farm
some sardines in a can.
Sweetcorn laughed and turnips too,
over boiled they taste like glue.
Uncle Calum Uncle Calum
Funny Pumpkin Man.

Illustration : Ollie Tomlinson

(c) 1996, 2010 World of Water (Reg. Charity 327188)

H.& C. my B-C! (Hot and Cold my Ball-Cock) A.K.A. The SueJuice Bird

Out of the countless stories circulating in highland pubs about the Laird, Hedradwall Cabbard, my personal favourite is “The Suejuice Bird” .

This story was turned into a poem, along with the following illustration,  for a WoW performance of the ‘Nine Tenets’.

A.K.A.  H.& C. my B-C!   (Hot and Cold my Ball-Cock!)


Hedradwall Cabbard raised his barrel
At the Suejuice Bird – in best apparel.
His flight or plight –  to West or East
Was ‘soar away’, or ‘die as feast’!

The shutters closed in and around.
Most fond peekers made no sound
but backed from blinds, thus could see not,
what or how the end would be.

One shot was fired, from rod of two,
but missed and hit a stanky flue.
“My Ball-Cock!” shouted out a man,
who chased as far as catch it can
but stopped on edge by rope stretched tight –
his murmured “You!” issued at height.

“You’ll stop my Wind, you gunning fart.
Get off my windcock, shoo! Depart.
My balcony’s not made for ropes
And old green-flippered shooting blokes.”

The Suejuice Bird stood very still,
not wishing anybody ill,
reflecting on the second shot
from Cabbard’s gun, that winded sot.


And in this state of stanky poo, our characters exist for you.
This thought , an illustrative view –
‘A harbinger of deady-do.’
Your actions sit within your hands,
To follow better global plans.