With cross of blue and shambling walk I was the butt of scorn But came the sting on Hampstead Heath Who was player, and who pawn? I'd mixed up oranges and nuts Switched sugar for the salt And thrown a soup bowl at the wall (The chef was not at fault). I seem a harmless Essex priest With surplice and umbrella But any master criminal Knows I'm a fearsome feller. Fools! Do not underrate the brain Behind this moon-like face For when the éclaircissement comes You'll find I've solved the case.
How the leaves came down. I don't know who wrote it; it was very twee and entirely suitable for an eight-year-old, I still think. But my friend Nicholas - possibly with a little help from his parents - came up with 's The Donkey. I couldn't understand it at all, and felt seriously intimidated. This parody of it is my belated revenge.(1874-1936) first came to my notice when I was at primary school, aged about eight. Everyone in the class had to read aloud the poem of their choice. I chose a piece called
Chesterton wrote criticism, essays and novels, including the Father Brown stories, about an insignificant-looking little Essex priest who is also an all-solving amateur detective. In a story called The Blue Cross, Father Brown leads the police to himself and the dangerous criminal he is with by leaving a trail of odd occurrences across Hampstead.
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This page last updated 11/12/2004