A Warning

Not long ago, not far away,

Lived a lady who some would say,

Was very kind, and very wise,

And generally, I would advise,

Old ladies are what they appear,

But in this instance to be clear,

This lady recently retired,

Once had a job where she was hired,

To grant wishes to those in need

Of help to see their dreams succeed,

And while she really did enjoy this role,

Like all jobs, it took its toll.

So, this fairy godmother packed her things,

Including wand and fairy wings,

And settled down right in the middle

Of a small village’s rural idyll.

She seemed quite sweet and so endearing,

That no one questioned her just appearing.

She kept her cottage extremely clean,

The dishes were washed, windows would gleam,

Furniture polished, fires lit

Cushions plumped for guest to sit,

Although, in hindsight you never saw

This lady wash a single floor.

And she was rather good cooking,

In contests no-one got a look in.

Every time her cakes won first,

As if the others had been cursed.

Their sponges sank, and pie crusts burnt,

They forgot family recipes they had learnt.

Even stranger, or so they thought,

The judge’s favourites was all she brought.

In every single competition

She always beat the opposition.

She always guessed what jam to bring,

She always knew what song to sing.

She always deduced what flavour wine,

She always figured what blooms would shine,

Her photos were always a work of art,

Her poetry touched even a hardened heart.

She even won the fancy dress

Dressed as a fairy godmother no less.

The villagers became quite irked,

It didn’t matter how hard they worked,

It didn’t matter if they were skilled,

It didn’t matter what they willed.

For every time that they might win,

This lady gave a knowing grin.

But the prize which beat the rest,

Was which garden looked the best.

Its tiny trophy would belie,

How much the villagers would try,

To outdo their neighbours, and to beat

All the others on the street.

Sadly, they were not adverse

To behaving at their worst.

Trust me, you would never dream

How much some villagers could scheme.

They snuck about in the dead of night,

And in the morning what a sight.

Hanging baskets would disappear,

Plants beheaded, and I fear

Lots of horticultural crime,

Befell the village at this time.

Neighbours you had known for years,

Would gladly cause you floods of tears.

As you can imagine after all this cheating,

The village council had a meeting,

“Enough is enough we'll take no more.”

So, they posted letters through each door.

“All this nonsense we will not abide,

Cheaters will be disqualified.”

Now our fairy godmother, as you may surmise,

Also coveted this tiny prize,

And not wanting to be outdone,

Had used magic to ensure she won,

And although it took no time at all,

Her garden really did enthral.

Her lawn was neat and cut in stripes.

There were flowers of many different types.

On her patio swept and free of weeds,

Was a table and chairs shaded by trees.

And the feature that she was most fond,

A perfect little garden pond.

The pond was filled with golden fish,

It was everything that you could wish.

Strange thing was, with all this disgrace,

Each morning her garden was still in place.

Then neighbours, fearing they might not win,

Committed the most dreadful sin.

Although they couldn’t fathom how,

They reported her for cheating now.

So, all her work had been in vain,

Disqualified after their campaign.

But then the people who were complaining,

Just left the village without explaining.

The village moved on, and soon it snowed.

So, she lit the fire, above which she showed

The trophies of contests she had done.

All of course except for one,

But she would smile, and simply stare

At her frozen pond, quite aware,

The pond was deeper than you would think,

And allowed all kinds of things to sink,

Including the bodies of those who thought,

That malice would win the prize they sought.

Please read your history, and heed this story

For fairy godmothers traditionally can also be gory!