Aliens Landed in Ballykilduff,
Aliens landed; that is a fact,
In the dark of the night it happened, it did,
At the end of my garden they landed, then hid.

Breda, dear Breda, wake up, will you please?
Something is happening, and I am all in a tizz!
Leave me alone, she answered, I’m beat,
With those words on her lips, she fell fast asleep.

Donning my gown and slippers I left,
Her sleeping soundly as into the kitchen I crept,
Searching for light; a torch, my best friend,
Then into the garden I stealthily went.

Down the long garden, man and torch progressed,
Then i climbed over the fence, into the field with its guests,
Pointing my torch at the little green men,
I saw Aliens a plenty around a flying saucer, broken.

What are they doing? I mused out aloud,
Signalling my place, my location — and how,
Pointing their guns, the Aliens zapped me with rays,
Blue, yellow, green, orange and grey.

Thinking my time was finished, all gone,
I fell to the ground, awaiting the final anon,
Sorry about that, one of them said, helping me up,
We thought you were a cow, wanting to gobble us up.

What are you doing? I asked, with curious eyes,
Seeing them cutting grass, then taking it inside,
We are refuelling our spaceship, he told me aloud,
We get a light year per armful, he told me so proud.

That’s amazing, I said, can I go see inside?
Sorry, he answered, it’s too small for your like,
Laughing, I said, is there anything you need?
Yes, he told me forthrightly, can we have some tea?

Tea? I asked, you drink tea way up there,
In outer space with its atmosphere rare?
No, silly, he replied, it’s to pour down our boots,
We never travel with them empty — it’s the truth.

You pour tea down your boots? I laughed aloud,
What does it do, make you fly like a bird?
It does, he answered, how did you know that fact?
Was your mother or father an alien, or even the cat?

Just then I heard something, someone calling to me,
Gerrard, wake up, its morning; here is your tea,
Opening my eyes, I saw Breda my wife,
Offering the cup of plenty, tea; it’s my life.

Where are my boots? I asked, still half sleep,
I want them, I need them; oh where are they please?
They are under the bed, here, she said, offering them to me,
Why do you want them before drinking your tea?

Accepting the boots, I poured in the tea,
What on earth are you doing? she asked warily,
I don’t go anywhere, I told her, without filling them first,
Can I have another cup, I asked, because I sure have a thirst.

The moral of my story is this:
Avoid Ballykilduff, give it a miss,
For strange things are happening there,
Aliens in boots filled with tea, fixing their flying saucer, so rare.