
Poems written by Peter Gibbs over 60 years, inspired by romance, travel, the beauty of nature, emotions and family and friends - peterspoetry.co.uk
The Green Button,
based on an Enid Blyton story told by my mother to me and her school pupils
In a forest long ago
There stood a cottage neat
With rambling roses round the door
Each caller there to greet
It was the home of an old man
Who gardened every day
Never thinking that he might
Glean treasure on his way
A frosty morning saw him out
With hoe and rake and fork
When came a glimpse of something bright
Beneath a cabbage stalk
Pinpointed by a sunshine ray
It had a pearly sheen
“Now what is that,” he said aloud
It was a button green
He picked it up and scraped away
The bits of clinging dirt
Then took it in and sewed it on
The cuff of his work shirt
Throughout the day it sparkled there
He loved its emerald glow
It made him want to sing for joy
And all his friends to show
That night as he undressed for bed
He wondered at his find
But soon he closed his weary eyes
And sweet dreams filled his mind
Next morn as he ate breakfast
He heard a timid knock
So he went to the front door
And opened up the lock
Right there upon his doorstep
Was stood a wee small chap
With tattered clothes and battered shoes
A bell atop his cap
He looked forlorn and weary
And really, really sad
But then he spied the button
And went stark raving mad
“It’s mine,” he yelled. “I want it
“Just give it to me now
“I need it and I’ll have it”
He made an awful row.
The old man was quite shocked to see
A such bad-mannered show
He slowly, sadly shook his head
And said: ”I’m sorry, No.
“I like this little button
“It suits me very well
“And how it came to be here?
“Well, frankly who can tell?”
He closed the door securely
And went back to his chair
Ignoring all the bangs outside
And rage that filled the air.
This uproar went on through the day
He had to stay indoors
And spent the time spring cleaning
And scrubbing all the floors
Eventually it all went quiet
Just as the sun went down
The old man had his supper
His brow creased with a frown
At dawn he was awoken
By a window-shaking crack
He yawned and groaned for without doubt
The wretched elf was back
Once again he looked into
Those angry piercing eyes
Once again he had to hear
The fury of those cries
“It’s mine, it is. I want it
“Now give it here to me
“I need it and I’ll have it
“You’ll do it, just you see.”
The old man was again unmoved
By this appalling show
He shook his head quite firmly
And said: ”I’m sorry, No.”
The day was like the one before
In fact a little worse
With thumping on his cottage walls
Backed up by fearsome curse
That evening he determined
That this really had to end
To be cooped up inside his home
Would drive him round the bend.
Yet after sleeping fitfully
He roused when ‘twas first light
And heard just birds a-chirping
Not sounds of vicious spite
He walked into his garden
And then he stopped to stare
For quietly standing by the path
The little elf was there
He shivered in the icy wind
His hands were turning blue
He trembled as he spoke these words
“I’m so cold, through and through.
“So please give me my button
“I’ll not repeat bad form
“I need to sew it on my coat
“To keep me nice and warm.”
The old man said: “Just come inside”
And led him to the door
“You could have saved that horrid fuss
“If you’d said, please, before.”
He sat him down in front the fire
And from a wooden chest
He pulled a fleecy garment
Made of the very best
He wrapped it round the little elf
As he made them a meal
And from the rafters laughter rang
A new friendship to seal
From that day they oft would meet
And talk for hours and hours
And on his doorstep every morn
He found a bunch of flowers
The button stayed upon his cuff
So neither should forget
The time it came to be mislaid
And how these two then met
Inside that cosy kitchen
Our little story ends
Proving once again the truth
That manners maketh friends.