Weird and Wonderful Wellie Poems
"Ode to a Welly" by Maggie Chaplin
Farmer Tustian's welly has walked for countless miles,
squelched through muddy gateways and clambered over tiles
It's been polished by the morning dew and clarted up the dung,
and up till now its merits have largely gone unsung.
It's pushed the spade and turned the sod, heeled in the winter kale,
It's climbed the hill and scaled the fence or lingered in the vale.
On shingle nearly lost it's grip slithered on the brash.
Been still with cold and slick with oil caked in bonfire ash.
It's been streaked with grease at shearing, splashed with herbicidal spray
And doused with disinfectant to keep FMD away.
It's trampled dock and thistle and scuffed the autumn leaves,
Stamped on irksome molehills, been trodden on by theaves.
It's paced both recent furrow and swathes of new-mown hay
And cracked the ice on puddles on frosty winter's day.
It seemed this life was endless till it's partner split its sole
And was no longer watertight so had no useful role.
The worthless boot was thrown away but was then of its mate?
Its walking days were finished. It had another fate.
The farmers trusty welly now no longer shields his tread,
Transported by an engine, it sheathes tractor parts instead.
" Ode To A Welly" by Aled Jones aged 15
Ladies, Gents, its time for welly week,
Celebrating the footwear when the weather's bleak.
I stomp around without a care,
Every farmer should own a pair.
Because he trims sheep's feet all day,
Dad's are covered in purple spray!
Mums owns spotty ones, they aren't plain,
And are perfect for splashing in the rain.
I wear old ones, they aren't plain,
And are perfect for splashing in the rain.
I wear old ones, dirty and green,
A lot of use, my pair have seen.
A friend to the farmers-water they block,
But when mine broke, I gained a wet sock.
Hunters are the best, the king of the shoe
Oh without wellies, what would we do?
Offering protection against water so deep,
Always on our feet when we herd the sheep.
From trekking through marsh, or jumping over heather,
Wellies are perfect, whatever the weather.
Oh I love wellies to no end,
So ode to a welly- a true farmers friend.
"Something in my Welly" by Gareth Lancaster
There's something thick and slimy,
It's down there in my welly.
It squidges and it sploshes,
And it's also rather smelly!
I should of checked it just before,
I plunged my foot straight in.
But I didn't; I feel stupid.
I'm not sure what I've stepped in!
And so I'm in a quandary,
I'm not sure I want to know,
What resides in my welly,
And is squishing tween my toes!
It feels so cold and squelchy,
Oh it's filling me with fear,
Of all the things that it could be,
And I'm too scared to peer!
It could be jam, it could be worse!
It could be mud or goo!
It could be almost anything,
Like week-old drool or glue!
Consumed with dread I peek inside,
Not ready for shock!
And lurking deep with in the dark?
Is a wet and stinky sock!
"Take Me Away Wellies" by Janet Brice Parker
I'm going to run in my wellies
and kick up sugar-white sand.
I'll splash at the edge of the ocean
and hold onto your hand.
There my be a cool breeze in Destin.
No swim suit weather for us.
But a nip in the air at the sea makes me smile.
Cold weather here makes me fuss.
I can hardly wait to fall in bed
and hear the ocean's roar.
Nature rocks us to sleep and God's voice speaks
and sweet dreams will make us soar.
Five blissful days in Destin.
The smell of salt and fish.
A sunset so fine, a glass of wine
while the sun and ocean kiss.
So, I hope that all of you miss me.
I'll think of your beautiful words.
I hope I will write a day and night.
But I'll probably eat like a bird (all of the time)
So goodbye it is from me to you.
I'll be back way too soon.
But I'll think of certain poet friends
when I look at the face of the moon.
"Yellow Wellies" by David Axton
New yellow wellies for someone aged four
Guarding the bed every night;
Waiting to be
The first things she'll see
When she opens her eyes to the light.
Bright yellow wellies for someone aged four
Jumping in puddles for fun
Splashing aways
A great game to play
And something that has to be done.
Strong yellow wellies for someone aged four
Kicking up leaves in the wood;
The pile of leaves
Comes up the the knees
So the kicking is not very good.
Warm yellow wellies for someone aged four
Lying around on their own
Not much to do
Now winter is through
And the feet of their owner have grown.
Check out all the different colours Hunters offer in the Original style http://www.targetwholesale.co.uk/
Like to read about Wellies http://hubpages.com/profile/HunterWellies
Hunters boots are available in a wide range of styles, more recently it began producing wellies in bright colours such as 
