29/05/2026
’Twas the night before Jumble, throughout all the streets,
Not a sound could be heard as the village folk sleep.
The banners were flying, the bunting all strung,
And posters reminded us, “Jumble Day’s come!”
The Scout Hall was bursting from ceiling to floor,
With treasures and gadgets piled by the doors.
There’s electrical, bric-a-brac, furniture too,
And at least twenty-one bikes, perhaps twenty-two.
The leaders kept sorting while late evenings flew,
With volunteers helping the whole process through.
The Cubs and the Scouts and Explorers play their part,
For the Jumble’s a weekend that’s close to our heart.
There’s burgers, home baking and a raffle with prizes,
The pictures and mirrors come in all shapes and sizes.
With curious finds found in every room through,
Something is certain to catch someones view
Tomorrow at one when the gates open wide,
The whole village gathers from every side.
Old friends stop to chat halfway through the sale,
Saying, “Not seen you since last year!” without fail.
And nobody knows when the Jumble began,
But it’s lived on for longer than anyone can.
A tradition that somehow keeps bringing us near,
As we hear from so many, “It’s the best day of the year!”
