Awed by the poetic magnificence of last year’s ‘ode to the wellington boot’, we have decided to create our own ode, though this one more suited to the dry, sunny, and work-filled summer throughout which we toiled. I call it the ‘Ode to the Biscuit Bin’.
Oh all ye excavators caked in mud,
I ask that you ignore the dirt and crud,
And traipsing in for tea take solace in
The candid white of our own biscuit bin.
One day ’tis filled to brim with Malted Milk,
Another crammed with Hobnobs and their ilk,
And on occasion though we think it’s fake
We find in it the treasured Jaffa cake.
Although McVitie’s thrives on its extent,
It’s worth it just to keep diggers content,
For though we might act out the angry mob,
Without the bic’s we’d all be off the job!
And so to you dear bin we write this ode
Forever do we seek to lift your load,
For you we dig and trowel and wash and sieve,
For one more taste of chocolate Digestive.
P.S. Through all the days and weeks I’ve spent o’er here,
There’s only one thing that I’ve learned to fear:
Not mud not hikes nor cliffs nor seas nor din –
My greatest dread’s an empty biscuit bin.