The given words at this week's Sunday's Whirligig are reach, farming, sprout, dung, enters, corn, comes, mole, rise, seed, flows, and vine
In the warmth of the crackling log fire, the local farmers were enjoying their Friday gossip gathering at the Buxom Belle public house where more than just the beer flows.
In comes Colin the crop farmer, king of the corny joke.
“Evenin’ Colin” said Walter. “Evenin’ Colin” said Fred. “Oh, it’s you” groaned Solomon as Colin plonked himself down in an old leather armchair.
“Did I tell you the one about....?” Colin's joke was mercifully curtailed as the old oak door creaked and George enters.
“Evenin’ George” said Colin. “Evenin’ George” said Walter. “Evenin’ George” said Fred. “Before you park yer ass mister, mine's a pint” slobbered Solomon, greedily splashing the remains of his ale down his throat.
George is a modern farmer. He’s started growing vines in his top field. The others think it’s a bit poncey and never tire of telling him so, but he refuses to rise to their mocking.
“What did the grape say when George trod on it?” asked Colin.
“Err” said Walter.”Umm” said Fred. “Go on then George, tell us if you must” Solomon said wearily as he gazed at the ancient beams above his balding head.
“Nuffing” yelled Colin “It just let out a little wine! Haha...haha... haha!”
“Ere” muttered Fred from behind his cupped hand as he leaned forward. “I saw that brazen hussy Martha Whittaker coming outa’ back alley first thing s’mornin’. Proper shady she looked”
"Baa, you are talking a load of dung ya’ silly ole codger" shouted Brenda the barmaid from the other end of the room.
“Oh no, I see’d it with me own two eyes” he shouted back.
“You’ve only got one eye Fred, ‘tother one’s glass!” mocked Leonard the landlord.
Walter laughed. Colin laughed. Solomon reached for his tankard and fiddled nervously with the hair spouting from the mole on his cheek.
“Be that as it may, I know what I saw and it looks a bit 'spicious ta’ me” insisted Fred.
Is that the alley that leads to Solomon’s cottage?” asked prissy Pricilla who was sitting two tables away with her cronies from the knitting circle.
Everybody in the bar turned towards Solomon.
~ ~ ~
And so it went on, for it was just another Friday night at the Buxom Belle.