Mrs Dunwoody's Haydock Experience

Mrs Dunwoody from Sheffield,
Despite fact that forecast said rain,
Set forth to see Rhydian at Haydock,
For 'twas 'bout time she saw him again.

Though not much inspired by racing
She thought she'd pass time placing bets,
And after, slip round horse enclosure,
To give chosen steeds a quick check.

Whilst nosing round Morning Star's horsebox,
She heard a deep groan and a 'hic',
And saw, in the straw, a small figure,
Clutching stomach and looking quite sick.

A jockey lay pale and most death-like,
Moaning, "No way I'll mount horse's back -
Though without a good show for the owners,
They threatened they'd give me the sack."

Mrs D poked the jockey with brolly
Saying, "What? I’ve put five pound to win!"
He replied, "'Twas the prawns for my breakfast.
It's one heck of a job keeping thin."

As Mrs D's eyes rolled up skywards
A grin 'gan to spread o'er her face,
Seeing silks all hung ready and waiting,
Why not take his place in the race?

Soon jockeys were summonsed for mount-up,
She joined the mass for parade,
When a horse, size of mountain, loomed o'er her.
She'd no time for decision she'd made.

Perched high on huge beast, passing muster,
Mrs D thought she'd manage quite well
Having ridden the donkeys at Blackpool,
Yet admittedly, not for a while.

Then down to the start and the line-up,
Mrs D poised like bird taking flight,
They were off! And she groped for a handhold,
Thinking best thing to do was hold tight.

She tried clinging on like a limpet
But instead bounced around like a ball.
It was all she could do to keep teeth in,
As round the course cavalcade tore.

Communication with steed was at minimum,
It being more expert than her,
And as glasses inside goggles 'gan steaming,
Thought to horse's ideas she'd defer.

Now whether 'twas rush of adrenaline,
Or fear, made her give several 'Whoops!'
But the horse began hammering homewards,
And to front of the throng they both swooped.

With arms and legs all of akimbo,
Over line Mrs D and horse swept.
- And kept going for several more furlongs
When through barrier a small figure stepped.

The jockey, composure recovered,
Caught horse as it stopped in its tracks,
And Mrs D, dishevelled and breathless,
Gladly slid down from Morning Star's back.

A quick swap of attire 'tween couple,
And jockey to horse then restored,
Mrs D staggered back to the grandstand,
Bow-legged, red-faced and quite sore.

After collecting her winnings from bookie,
She retired to stage for Rhyd's set,
But due to her previous exertions
She discovered, when 'twas over, she'd slept.

Disappointed at missing her idol,
To the exit, her way sadly made,
Just as Rhydian, in limo, swept past her,
And her blew her a kiss and then waved.

Copyright ~ xue bai

Sheffield and Beyond

Mrs. Dunwoody from Sheffield
Had ticket for X-factor gig,
And though she was coming up eighty
Was resplendent in all the right rig.

With her t-shirt emblazoned with 'Rhydian',
And her bunny-ears giving off glow,
She sat back with a packet of gum-drops
To enjoy the magnificent show.

But her eyes drooped through Hope's first performance,
And Futureproof failed to ignite
Her interest in evening's set schedule.
Folk suspected she'd sleep through the night.

Then came Andy, Alisha and Beverley,
With Nikki's full-throated rendition,
And by this time bloke sat in seat fourteen
Was concerned by her recumbent position.

The Medics were called in at half-time,
But found there no reason to fret.
So they left her, with bunny-ears flashing,
And hoped she'd see some of show yet.

Her eyes flickered through some of Same Difference,
And then you'd have thought she'd had shock,
For as Rhydian appeared in the spotlight,
She was out of her seat like a shot.

From her bag appeared glow sticks and camera,
Her cheers could be heard above crowd,
And she threw her assortment of gum-drops
At those she thought talking too loud.

She leapt up on her seat at finale,
And sang tunelessly 'long with refrain,
And created such a disturbance,
That others began to complain.

This time it was guards, and not Medics
That appeared at her side to get calm.
But no way could they get her to settle,
So each grabbed ahold of an arm.

She was frog-marched through clouds of confetti,
As Rhydian completed the set,
And her words ended evening's performance,
"You've not heard the last of me yet!"

It's suspected that Bolton's in schedule,
So watch out if a pensioner appears,
With red t-shirt and big bag of gum-drops,
And sporting a pair of large ears.

Copyright ~ xue bai

Mrs Dunwoody Goes to Brighton

Mrs Dunwoody from Sheffield,
Having revelled in X-factor tour,
Decided to use that week's pension
To see Rhydian perform just once more.

She travelled by coach down to Brighton,
And pushed to the head of show's queue,
But her seat wasn't best as expected
As Rhyd-banners obstructed her view.

Her complaints, then her threats, went unnoticed,
As frenzy 'gan gripping the crowd,
And despite hitting heads with her hand bag,
Banners formed an impermeable cloud.

By half-time her exasperation
Provoked a discourteous stunt,
For by wielding umbrella before her,
She cleared a path through to the front.

As Rhyd once more stepped in red spotlight
With white coat and his hair all aflame,
She straddled the barrier before her
And loudly 'gan cheering his name.

It was when Rhydian was well into 'Somewhere',
That his eyes clapped on her bunny-ears,
And he dropped to his knees and sang to her,
Which reduced the old lady to tears.

Just then, bunny-ears stopped their flashing,
For by this time the batteries'd gone flat,
And she toppled, head first over barrier
Into darkness, on soft, spongy mat.

And whom did she find there beside her?
Why, 'twas Rhydian who'd leapt off of stage
At the end of his solo performance,
Whilst guards gathered round her in rage.

But Rhydian took hold of her elbow
And guided her round out of way,
Whilst Mrs Dunwoody cast smug looks
At those who'd been part of affray.

With a pot of tea ready and waiting
They just had some time for quick chat
Before Rhydian went back for finale,
And she, full of glee, to her flat.

'Twas next day when Mrs Dunwoody
Was recalling past evening so well,
That she found a short note tucked in hand bag
Saying, "See you at Last Drop Hotel".

Copyright ~ xue bai

Fast-forward to Bolton

Lucinda Fitz-Gibbon of Bolton
Could be termed an upper-crust lass,
Full of 'propriate high airs and graces,
And an accent that could have cut glass.

She frequented the best clubs and restaurants,
And adored to be noticed by Press,
So when hearing of 'Exclusive Performance',
She decided she'd be one of guests.

Though she'd no idea who'd be performing,
For 'Exclusive' was 'nough to inspire,
She dressed herself up for red carpet,
And called for her limousine car.

She thought she'd arrive a bit early,
So as to give venue a check,
But on arriving, the vision before her
Was hardly she hoped to expect.

There were loads of red t-shirted ladies,
With 'Rhydian', in white, on their chest,
Like robins, red breasted and chirpy,
All talking without taking breath.

They were clustered in groups in the foyer,
And stood three feet deep at the bar,
And at this point Lucinda regretted
She had dispensed of her limousine car.

She stood out like a daisy 'mongst poppies,
But assumed that the ladies must be
The waitresses booked for the evening,
For a splendiferous occasion to be.

She found a spare chair in a corner
And clicked fingers at lady near by,
And ordered Martini, with olive,
And was taken aback by reply.

"You're welcome to this grand occasion!
No t-shirt? Well, let's have a see.
I'm sure I can find you a spare one.
You must be the same size as me!"

'Twas then that she heard the word 'Rhydian',
And decided to eaves-drop on throng,
And got caught up in general excitement,
And on a wave she got carried along.

The evening was more than expected,
Rhyd's songs warmed the coldest of hearts,
And at the end of last song, Rhyd invited
One of the audience to dance.

'Course, Lucinda perked up at the invite,
And out of her seat she half rose,
But 'twas not her, but Mrs Dunwoody
From Sheffield that Rhydian chose.

Lucinda thought this was an insult,
She supposed she was better than most.
But then thought of her wonderful evening
'Mongst good friends, and Rhydian as host.

So she clapped and she cheered with the others,
And learnt lesson she'd never forget.
You can enjoy yourself out of the limelight,
And wish well upon others you've met.

Copyright ~ xue bai

Betty From Brighton

Betty from Brighton, a Rhyd fan,
Was chambermaid in posh hotel,
Where all the stars from the X-factor
Had been settling in very well.

She'd collected a mass of Rhyd's photos,
But thought that his presence might make
A chance for her memorabilia
To grow at an enormous rate.

She was delighted when finding her rota
Gave a chance for Rhyd's room to peruse,
And offered opportunity to gather
Any odd things that he'd used.

But the staff was informed of stars' privacy,
And nothing of theirs should they take,
So Betty dug deep in her handbag
And regretfully took out a plate.

Though temptation was quite overpowering,
Not once did she give in to sin.
Any bottle of water, half empty,
She diligently put in the bin.

But the sight of white hair round the mirror
Made her break into sweat and face blanche,
But once more the urge she resisted,
And turned down this heaven-sent chance.

So she cleaned and she polished and tidied,
Though when discarding of Rhyd-bits in pile,
She held every item a moment,
Absorbing his presence the while.

It was when she was tackling the hoovering,
Poking it under Rhyd's bed,
That she saw something quite odd, a glimmering,
And crawled under whilst minding her head.

'Twas a cuff-link Rhyd lost previous evening,
And for a moment she felt all aglow,
But good girl that she was, kept it safely,
And waited 'til Rhyd finished show.

The delight on Rhyd's face was beatific,
As she presented her trophy with glee.
And he gave her a Rhyd-hug and told her,
"These cuff-links are priceless to me".

Her reward was he personally took her
The very next night to the show,
And gave her all manner of Rhyd-bits
Which made sure her collection would grow.

Her memorabilia could be worth a fortune
When Rhyd's name is way up there in lights,
For honesty is thought the best policy,
And for Betty, it sure proved it right.

Copyright ~ xue bai

Mrs Dunwoody Goes to Cardiff

Mrs Dunwoody from Sheffield
Was sat at computer one night,
Inspecting the threads with new pictures
That were posted on Rhydian's site.

She came across picture of Rhydian,
Holding daffodil, yellow and big,
And into her head popped an idea
She could use at his last Cardiff gig.

By now she suspected that Rhydian
Was aware of her many great gaffs,
But she intended to catch his attention
When surrounded by massive great daffs.

So she popped to the shops the next morning,
And found just the item she needed,
And caught coach to Cardiff X-Factor,
And in theatre, to front row proceeded.

As Rhydian appeared, so did daffodils,
As Wordsworth would say, 'golden host',
Whilst Mrs D. drew out of handbag
Something plastic, and larger than most.

She huffed and she puffed at one corner
Until starting to feel trifle weak,
And whilst everyone waggled huge daffodils,
She had blown up a gigantic leek.

She struggled finding hole to fit plug in,
But leek struggled back in her grip,
And as Rhydian was singing Welsh Anthem,
That leek, from her hand, 'gan to slip.

It shot round the hall like a missile
As everyone ducked behind seats,
And then flopped down on stage front of Rhydian,
Like a homing device, at his feet.

As everyone glared at the culprit
Rhyd 'came aware of where leek had come from,
And blew a great kiss and gave thumbs up
And to her sang the last of night's songs

Copyright ~ xue bai

Mrs Dunwoody Goes to Newbury ~ Part 1

It was Party in Paddock at Newbury,
And loads of Rhyd's fans travelled there,
Plus Mrs Dunwoody from Sheffield
Who had brought her inflatable chair.

She'd restrained from betting on races
As her pension wouldn't stretch quite that far,
But in third race she noticed a white horse
That went by the name, 'Super-Star'.

She could hardly resist the temptation,
So to Mick the Flick bookie she went,
And put five pounds in hope of it winning,
Though it greatly reduced next month's rent.

The horse was dragged 'round the parade ring,
Reluctant and full of derision,
And at 100 to 1, the outsider,
She began to regret her decision.

It wandered, quite slow, down to start line,
Lacking lustre and looking quite pale,
While Mrs D. pumped up her armchair
And positioned herself by the rail.

The horses lined up, right and ready,
Skittish and eager to break,
But Super-Star stood there, eyes drooping,
Having trouble to keep self awake.

And then they were off at the gallop,
Super-Star mooching 'long at the rear,
Whilst Mrs D. yelled out rude comments
That Super-Star 'peared not to hear.

It was just when they turned final corner,
With leaders way out at the front,
That seeing her horse pedalling backwards,
Mrs D., to her chair, downwards plumped.

Well, the force of her sudden attachment
Burst chair open wide at the seams,
And the sound of explosion, like cannon,
Woke Super-Star out of his dreams.

Like lightning, his gait nigh on trebled,
He was down that straight like silver flash,
Overtaking the favourites, like steam train,
And to finishing line 'gan to dash.

He won that race just by a short nose,
As Mrs D. rose up from ground,
With betting slip held high, triumphant

At having won five hundred pounds.

Copyright ~ xue bai

Ode to Tinkle Bear

Lately I've been contemplating
On an object once dear to Rhyd's heart.
What has Tinkle Bear been up to lately,
Once Rhydian's soft toy counterpart?

Has he been left reclining on duvet
In Brecon, forgotten, alone,
Reminiscing on days of pure pleasure,
Counting days when our Rhyd comes back home?

For no doubt the love once heaped upon him
He's missing, with life now so bland.
With no Rhydian to cuddle up to him
With his paw, tucked secure, in Rhyd's hand.

I expect he is missing Rhyd's secrets,
Those whispered in Tinkle Bear's ear,
And he knew of Rhyd's great aspirations
In advance from the rest of us here.

If there's one hope I hold on and cling to,
That is Rhydian had known he'd be missed,
So he tucked Tinkle Bear in his suitcase
And at night, before sleeping, he's kissed.

So just give a thought to Rhyd's Tinkle Bear,
Is he lying alone on Rhyd's bed,
Or savouring all of the pleasures
To where fortune and fame has Rhyd led?

Copyright ~xue bai

Mr Carter's Predicament

Old Mr Carter from Bognor
Had been working since he was a lad
And to escape from his wife's constant nagging,
An allotment, down back-way, he had.

Day after day he would be there
With his spade and his rake and his hoe,
But whatever he did to the soil,
His vegetables declined to grow.

He sprinkled some sulphate of potash
And bone meal, with care, on each row,
Even droppings from horses in next field,
But still flaming veg wouldn't grow.

By now Mr Carter was fretting,
In fact, he was getting quite stressed,
No matter whatever he gave them,
His veg still looked sad and depressed.

One day, to his utter amazement
He saw, when he peered over hedge,
A vision of bright rainbow colours
Of flourishing flowers and veg.

"It's quite simple", called out Mrs Fairbrass,
"Look there, and you surely will see,
I've a disc player propped on my muckheap
And they're listening to Rhydian's CD".

"Well, if Prince Charles can talk to his flowers,
Though I've always thought that so much bull,
I'll go and get player from attic",
And he checked that the batteries were full.

Mrs Fairbrass passed over a CD,
Then Mr Carter crouched down 'front of fold,
And before long all seemed to have perked up
As Rhydian's music took hold.

Rhyd's songs coloured all of the flowers,
The veg all seemed lost in a trance
Whilst the pea-pods turned greener with envy
As the sunflowers swayed in their dance.

The carrots shot deep into soil
As Rhyd's music soared high overhead,
And tomatoes grew red with embarrassment
As the marrows swelled up in their bed.

In a week that allotment was verdant,
Healthy and plump were the plants,
For Rhyd's music had got their juice flowing
With his magic, absorbed by each branch.

It may be of interest to know that
Mr Carter, in order to thank her,
Took Mrs Fairbrass, one night, down to Brighton
To see Rhydian star in 'X-Factor'.

Copyright ~ xue bai 

A poem - to mark Rhyd's birthday

Rhyd's Birthday Present

I wanted to give Rhydian a present
For his birthday that's coming up fast.
It would have to be something quite special,
Perhaps to make Rhydian laugh.

I'd rejected the t-shirts and chocolates,
Anyhow, he'd get these by the ton.
No, it had to be something original
To remember me 'bove everyone.

He wouldn't want flora or fauna,
('cept Julia Carta, of course),
So livestock was out of the question,
As he wouldn't find use for a horse.

But what's there to give anybody
Who'll soon have the trappings of wealth?
And then I got great inspiration,
I decided I'd give him myself.

I dug deeper for a solution,
Until I hit on Shakespeare's tale,
Of Cleopatra, and Caesar and carpet,
And thought that would suit me quite well.

I got all wrapped up in Axminster,
Brown paper was bit of a trial,
Then got taxi down to Post Office
Where I offered myself up to mail.

Eventually I reached destination,
'Twas Newcastle, just as was told
And was carted, with registered label,
To hotel room, signed for, and unrolled.

Well, the shock very nearly killed Rhydian
As I lay, comatose, at his feet,
But his reaction was typical of him,
He was ever so, beautifully, sweet.

However, I was hustled out quickly,
By security men, size of tanks,
Whilst Rhydian stood at his room window,
Holding carpet, and waving this thanks.

Copyright ~ xue bai

The Exercise Class

I'd not been out walking for ages,
And was feeling lethargic and plump,
And in the hours spent tied to computer,
I'd developed a Dowager's hump.

As my rear-end and hips started spreading,
Quicker than butter on toast,
I supposed it was time to get active
'Cause I was looking far larger than most.

To walk doesn't really impress me,
In fact I find walking a bore,
And to follow an exercise programme
Isn't pleasure; I'd call it a chore.

I finally made the decision
To join an exercise class.
There was one going on down at Church Hall,
Perhaps that would soon shift my a***.

Well, when I first entered those portals,
My heart dropped like stone to the ground.
I couldn't see exercise happening,
For all were just standing around.

To be honest the music was dire,
In fact it was more of a dirge,
No wonder most ladies were nattering,
It seemed like they'd all lost the urge.

In fact I saw one rotund lady,
Munching a large pecan twist,
Whilst another was rummaging in hand bag
For the remains of a packet of crisps.

There was nobody there I'd call 'sylph-like',
They all had 'big' problem like me,
So I thought I would spice up proceedings,
By putting on Rhydian's CD.

My heaven's, you should have seen difference,
The ladies all perked up as one,
With arms waving and knees up to elbows,
And jogging 'fore starting to run.

Rhyd's music was driving them frantic,
They couldn't stop leaping around,
Whilst class leader was having a break-down
And banging her head on the ground.

In four weeks our figures had shrunken,
Our bodies were well-toned and fit,
It was all down to Rhydian's music.
Yet again, he had proved a 'big' hit.

Copyright ~xue bai

Down on the Farm

Mr Forsythe, devout dairy farmer,
Had been having a problem with herd,
His cows weren't producing their quota
And milk that they had turned to curd.

He'd heard that cows revelled in music,
So had an audio system installed,
But the beasts still remained most reluctant
And held on to their milk even more.

He'd tried Chopin and Bach and Beethoven,
But classics weren't their cup of tea,
And their noses turned up at Madonna
And Abba and even BeeGees.

They'd fidget through Country and Western,
And jazz got them into uproar,
Even hip-hop failed to impress them
And lullabies made them all snore.

Then one day a young lady from Milk Board,
With her car CD player full blast,
Drove into the farm to check quota
And my gracious, how those cows moved fast.

They poured in from the fields like a torrent,
And quickly found place in their stall,
And once milk appliance was fitted,
They were happy to give it their all.

Mr Forsythe stood back in amazement
To see his cows happier by far,
And enquired of the young Milk Board Lady
Just what she had playing in car.

Well, it doesn't take much 'magination
To guess whose voice was bursting forth
To make those cows calm and contended,
With at last, in the yard, peace restored.

Rhyd's vocals soon got that milk flowing,
Tails swishing in time with the beat,
And cows mooed along with the chorus
As he was singing 'bout 'when shall we meet'.

It's amazing how Rhydian's music
Reaches out to touch so many hearts,
Even cows have signed up to his fan club
And are waiting for Rhyd's autograph.

Copyright ~ xue bai

The Awakening of Spring.

Stirrings in the soil
As the days are getting warm,
And daffodils and crocuses
Are greeting every morn.

Snowdrops slowly open
As green leaves become unfurled,
And I bless the days afore me
For this wonderful new world.

Tiny little creatures
Awake from winter's sleep,
And all around seems joyful,
And that in my soul I'll keep.

With the rising sap inside me
Keen to herald this new spring,
So I welcome every moment
That I hear dear Rhydian sing.

Copyright ~ xue bai