Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
Early Christmas
Early Christmas Christmas day in springtime, The sun lay three feet deep, When Santa rode in, breathless Astride a Herdwick sheep. The reindeers had been poorly, Excess of mince pies eaten. Then Santa caught the Covid But he would not be beaten. So, although a smidgen early To have Christmas in Spring, Let's hope that twenty-twenty-two A better year will bring.
Hobbo's Poems 
I have a theory about this. I bet peopler said that last year as well. And ’19, and ’18, and so on.
Trhis is basically as good as it gets.
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Well, thanks for cheering me up. It’s the hope that kills!😂
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I’ll remind you of this next year when you post about 2023.
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I hope note, Pete. I plan to be in Melbourne this time next year!
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playing tennis?
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Watching, I hope!
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Mr Worms thinks Omicron is our ticket of leave… from the Pandemic at least. As to Snotty Scotty, I’m hoping he’ll roll out his last barrels of pork in the new year before being put out to pasture with a stamp on his arse that says “Expired”. What are your plans for Bojo?
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Well, I hope that Mr Worms is spot on! If he is then, this time next year, I will be in Melbourne with my youngest son.👌
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Gosh, I do hope so.
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…and so say all of us!
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Eldest son Skype’d us last night. Don’t you love how nouns are so easily verb’d nowadays? Anyway, it’s going on 3-years since we’ve given each other a hug. He was out at sea for a year, and then Covid hit. Seems like forever.
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Hopefully we will both be able to give our sons a big hug next year. Skype and WhatsApp are just not the same.👍😊
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Like it, like it, like it. I am also hopeful, but without confident expectation.
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Cross those digits,and get vaxed. That’s all we can do!
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