In County Quorum in the U.K.,
A village of Dumstable lies in the way,
Of the well known River Twore,
That’s as good for swimming as you ever saw.
The village has it’s own P.O., grocer and baker,
And also a haberdasher, and a cabinet maker.
A Pub, or three, of course.
And some stables for your horse.

Ignatius Sodbury was a most unusual chap,
Somewhat prone to disaster, every mishap.
He was locally known to be a bit of a loon,
Whilst, physically, he strongly resembled a baboon.
He went to school right up to grade eight.
He never did homework and was always late.
At the end of the school day he was off at a lope.
Frankly, for him, the teachers had lost all hope.
He was frequently in trouble for pinching fruit.
And if he sneaked into the Pub, was given the boot.
He was given work by some local farmers,
And the undertaker let him help the embalmers.
And so, as the years did progress,
He grew and became even more of a mess.
Ladies, in their cottages, frequently saw,
Him peering right in through window or door,
Especially if it was family bathing time,
Then he would lope away without reason or rhyme.

The copper of a town that was near,
Would come to Dumstable Pub for a beer.
He would notice Ignatius lurking near the Pub,
Waiting, perhaps, for a handout of grub.
When he was older, he’d ask for a beer,
The landlord would oblige, if the copper wasn’t near.

A politician came to the village one day,
Although it wasn’t a big step in the political frey.
For the village population was exceedingly small,
Not many voters there, to politically enthral.
The politician, whose name was Orville Albright,
Noticed Ignatius, adjudging not all to be right.
He thought, “He is just lurking about,”
“And he looks to be a quite willing lout.”
“I will ask him to hand out political flyers”,
“See if we can create some Albright vote buyers.”

And so, this is precisely what he did,
Not knowing Ignatius wasn’t the full quid.
He thought him to be odd, but not quite so daft.
To leave hundreds of flyers out in the draft.
Where the wind scooped them up, and then dropped them down,
In almost every area of that small town.
The Politician stared uncertainly,
At flyers lodged high up in a tree.
And then he saw so many more,
On roofing, Chicken sheds, in the River Twore.
The politician said, “What can be done to save the day?”
Ignatius had got up and loped far away.
Said Albright, “I don’t give one jot,”
“If that lad be the village idiot,”
“Those flyers were meant to get me your vote,”
“If you will still do that, on your village I’ll dote,”
“And our political party, with a wing and a prayer,”
“Will for your village, make Ignatius your Mayor!”