A Womble Changed My Life

Posted on Mar 18, 2013


*The following is my homage to a brilliant children’s TV series from when I was a kid and I believe is still popular now. They were originally books written in the 70’s or earlier by Elisabeth Beresford and I recommend them if you have kids or know someone that does. They’re all about conservation and keeping the environment tidy. Happy memories I have of them. I think I had the toy and the vinyl song that was a huge hit in the 70’s? I hope you enjoy my homage to icons of children’s TV and literature. There are links at the end if you are interested to know more.

A womble changed my life
As I walked through Wimbledon common
He asked if I had a wife
Before preaching his sermon

You shouldn’t be out this late
As it’s almost past eight
We and the other wombles have work to do
Always cleaning up after all of you

I looked on incredulous at him
This Womble preaching my sin
Picking up rubbish, nattering away
What the hell was going on this day!

Hey you, he said to me,
Would you like to join me for tea?
I just stared looking at him
Pointed nose twitching as he sang his hymn

He looked at me thinking I was mad
But my god, gone fruitloop I think I had
His little paws shuffled across the grass
Grabbing my hand we moved very fast

A doorway in a tree I did not see
Leading down underground these wombles run free
Into a cavernous opening we came
Full of wombles at work and play

They were making things from our rubbish
A great strange sculpture like a fish
One of the things of many I saw
These crazy wombles did work with tools and paw

This womble looked up at me saying to sit
Was I dreaming, had I collapsed, had a fit?
He said his name was Tobermory, an Engineer is he
What do I do in the land above, sugar with my tea?

By now I’m confused thinking I have died
Laying on a slab, my brain finally fried
But a sip of the tea and a cupcake later
I’m now believing this womble maker

He tells me we should keep Britain clean
As wombles do without being seen
I just stare and agree to what he says
Before Tobermory leaves, saying good day

Uncle Bulgaria nods his head
Without words I know what he said
So off I go overground slightly confused
At meeting wombles this night, am I amused?

And keep the noise down someone shouts
Those tennis players do make a racket about
I walk away in the dark night
Wondering what else I’ll see before light

Never again will I litter the streets
In case I hear those tiny feet
Those Wombles taught me what to do
Keep this earth tidy or this day they’ll rue



Posted in: Poetry