The Five Find-Outers and Dog

Location: Peterswood.

Members of the gang:

~ Frederick Algernon Trotterville (Fatty).
~ Laurence Daykin (Larry).
~ Margaret Daykin (Daisy).
~ Philip Hilton (Pip).
~ Elizabeth Hilton (Bets).
~ Buster (Fatty's black Scottish Terrier).

~ Ernest Goon (Ern) - an honorary sixth member of the gang.


Pomes/Portry written by Ern and Fatty:

The dark dire deeds upon the hill
Strike my heart with a deadly chill.
The robbers rob and the looters loot,
We'd better be careful they don't all shoot.
They're deadly men, they're fearful foes,
What end they'll come to, nobody knows!
Oooh, the dark dire deeds upon the hill,
Strike my heart with a deadly chill.


A pore old gardener said, "Ah me!
My days is almost done.
I've got rheumatics in me knee,
And now it's hard to run.
I've got a measle in my foot,
And chilblains on my nose,
And bless me if I haven't got,
Pneumonia in my toes.
All my hair has fallen out,
My teeth have fallen in,
I'm really getting rather stout,
Although I'm much too thin.
My nose is deaf, my ears are dumb,
My tongue is tied in knots,
And now my barrow and my spade,
Have all come out in spots.
My watering can is..."


The little Princess Bongawee,
Was very small and sweet.
A princess from her pretty head,
Down to her tiny feet.
She had a servant, Ern by name,
A very stout young fella,
Who simply loved to shield her with,
A dazzling STATE UMBRELLA!


A pore old woman had a dog,
And it was always barkin,
Its name was Poppet, and of course
The woman's name was Larkin.
She sniffed and coughed the whole day long,
And said the wind was nippin.
And when the dog got in her way
She handed out a whippin.
Her husband shuffled in and out,
He wasn't very supple.
They weren't at all what you might call
A really pleasant couple!


There was a poor old house,
That once was full of folk,
But now was sad and empty,
And to me it spoke.
It said, "They all have fled,
My rooms are cold and bare,
The front door's locked and bolted,
And all the windows stare.
No smoke comes from my chimneys,
No rose grows up my wall,
But only ivy shrouds me,
In green and shiny shawl!
No postman brings me letters,
No name is on my gate,.
I once was called The Ivies,
But now I'm out of date.
The garden's poor and weedy,
The trees won't leaf again,
But though I fall to ruin,
The ivy—will—remain!"


Coo, look at them primrose down in the ditch,
Smiling all over their faces.
Coo, listen to all the birds up in the hedge,
And larks in the big open spaces.
Coo, look at the cows and the cowslips too,
And the lions so dandy and yellow.
And the cups full of butter for me and for you,
And hark where the bulrushes bellow!
Coo, look at the runner beans, how fast they go,
And...



* Pomes/Portry derived from The Enid Blyton Society *