The Ballad of Jeremy Cricket

In “Anecdotal Tales”, stories will be told.  Some will be fun, some will not.  Some will be great, some will be less so.  Some stories are true, some are merely possible.  This is one of them.

The Ballad of Jeremy Cricket

Somewhere in the world, say in a thicket.
There lives a critter named Jeremy Cricket.
He won’t cause a fuss, he won’t even picket.
He’s quite the character, this little whippet.

Now Jeremy lives out on Pickabear Lane
Where the guys tip their hats and carry a cane.
They’ll offer you shelter in times of rain.
The residents there are hardly a pain.

Jeremy Cricket’s the odd one in the lot,
It’s not like his teeth are beginning to rot,
But the normal guy, he is definitely not.
In a world of frying pans he would be the teapot.

Jeremy spends the bulk of his day
Doing things in his own peculiar way.
He collects bits of straw, here and there hay
Then sets about keeping boredom his at bay.

Yes Jeremy Cricket, he’s got it down pat.
He takes his straw and makes a placemat.
If he feels up to it, a nice straw hat.
His work is quite flawless, I assure you of that.

His hands are a blur with a tuck then a fold,
Moving the material which he knows how to hold.
His designs are frantic, dare I say, bold
His crafts built to last, ‘til the owner grows old.

The hours he labors are never enough.
He would like more time to devote to his stuff.
And while his friends were never gruff,
Jeremy’s odd crafts leave them in a huff.

“Why do you labor like a haberdasher?
Why not be normal, like a carpenter?”
They offered him jobs like clerk or farmer,
But their options were never ones he’d prefer.

They’d get frustrated; they’d question and ask,
Ranting as he labored on a wacky hay-mask
He offered to sell them a nifty straw flask
Still they continued to take him to task.

“We all think you’re gentle, and really so mellow.
In every other way, you’re a respectable fellow.
So why do you work so much on plants that are yellow,
Get a real job!” they continued to bellow.

But Jeremy Cricket, he was a calm guy.
He heard all their comments and let them whiz by.
His critics got flustered; they let out a sigh.
They could not fix him, they let sleeping dogs lie.

So it went on for year after year.
Jeremy crafted, his works knew no peer.
He ignored the side comments and random leer,
For that was all before the rain drew near.

The sky above became nothing but gray.
The sun was blocked out, night turned into day.
The residents had never seen it this way
And Pickabear Lane was thrown into dismay.

“What will we do?” they worried aloud.
“We’re afraid of the dark and gloomy storm cloud.”
Though crickets may chirp out crisp and loud
It is nothing compared to thunder’s “Krakow!”

The booming, it scared them, they ran to hide.
They shut up their doors as they all stayed inside.
But the river was growing increasingly wide,
Jeremy offered a plan, a helpful guide.

“I’ve got enough supplies to help us out
Cease all your worrying, there’s no need to shout.
You’ll not drown like some paralyzed trout
The answer is provided, simply look about.

“It just so happens that the answer we seek
Is in these crafts I worked on many a week.
The hats, the bowls, sure they look pretty meek
But I guarantee you’ll not find a single leak.

“We’ll combine some mats, put them together
It shouldn’t be hard; I’ll teach how to tether
These items into rafts which the storm won’t sever.
I promise we’ll make it through this weather!”

Jeremy Cricket was soon in charge
When he gave an order, it was “Okay, Sarge!”
And the townsfolk assembled many a barge.
The rafts were rugged, comfy, and quite large.

Pickabear Lane folks stayed on their floating mass
Until their homes dried out, free of schools of bass.
As they wiped the seaweed off of their window glass
They realized they had treated Jeremy quite crass.

They all made an effort to apologize
For how they’d treated him with despise.
But Jeremy was content to have them realize
He just wanted to be treated like one of the guys.

They all learned a lesson not to sneeze at:
“Let folks do their thing”, and that is that.
Now they have much less cause for a spat,
And they all have their very own straw hat.

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About anecdotaltales
He's a simple enough fellow. He likes movies, comics, radio shows from the 40's, and books. He likes to write and wishes his cat wouldn't shed on his laptop.

One Response to The Ballad of Jeremy Cricket

  1. Pingback: Intermission- Postaday vs. NaNoWriMo « Anecdotal Tales

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