Nurseryrhyme forourtime

‘Will you walk a little faster?’ Said the whiting to the snail. She couldn’t see the mollusc’s face. It looked a trifle pale. Not only was the pace too fast, But, heading for the sea, Was not a place he wished to go. I’m sure that you’d agree. ‘Will you, won’t you, will you Let me go back to the land? ‘Will you, won’t you, will you? ‘How I wish you’d understand.’ ‘I’ll walk a little faster If we head towards the shore. ‘Whatever you might have in mind, Won’t suit me any more. ‘Besides, it wasn’t my idea,’ The snail quoth, with a sigh. ‘I’m just not into soggy things. ‘I like my dancefloor dry. ‘Will you, won’t you, will you, Won’t you go back to the sea? ‘Will you, won’t you, will you Stop your pestering of me!’ The whiting came to realise That it was not to be. To fall in love with molluscs, They must first hail from the sea. She thought she’d bagged a winkle; What a hideous mistake. And yet, despite her error, It caused her poor heart to break. Will she, won’t she, will she Get her dance card rearranged? Will she, won’t she, will she Ever get her glasses changed? Ruth Twyman Lockyer, Yarmouth, Isle of Wight.

...and Limerick

Speculation is still on the rise As to why, it seems, ex-Russian spies, Or a critic of Putin Who once put the boot in Retires — then quite strangely dies. Jenny Grove, Kew, Surrey.