The Walton Park in Clevedon, is a faded posh hotel.

Which once was rather elegant but time has tolled its knell.

We stayed there once on holiday; ’twas in the month of June.

That we witnessed to our horror the case of the missing prunes.

    ________ . ________

 

They were old and bent, ex army and in that place of doom

they fitted in quite nicely in that faded dinning room.

“Tea or Coffee madam?” Said the maid in uniform.

“And would you like some cereals or fruit this sunny morn?”

 

“Ah, tea would be just lovely and six prunes if you don’t mind.

From the tin I purchased yesterday; that would be very kind.”

Your prunes have vanished in the night the tin is quite empty.

“Oh horrors ” said the lady.  “I know that, that can’t be.”

 

I must have my prunes each morn, I always do you know.

For without their sugared juices I don’t think I can go.”

I’m very sorry madam there’s nothing I can do.

An empty tin is empty and no ones left a clue.

 

But tins of prunes last three days, they always do at home.

You must look to your laurels or here we wont return!

“I’ll tell the manager at once; I’m sure he’ll find a way

to fix this wretched problem and that without delay.”

 

“Now, now my dear,” said Archie.  Ex Major, don’t you know?

“Don’t fret your pretty little head but see what you can do.”

The manager went shopping.  He was in a state of gloom

and all because his hotel staff had mislaid some wrinkled prunes.

 

” They’ll be here soon,” she told them. We’re doing all we can

to find a tin of wrinkled prunes.” The lady said,” oh damn!”

At last the manager appeared to save the hotels day.

He’d found the last tin in the town and bought it right away.

“Your prunes madam,” he whispered, in silver ware displayed.

“Too late, too late,” She said to him.  “I’ll not have then today.”

 
 

David Garlick, England, June, 1986