The allotments will never be the same.
Fred was digging a new bed when he
Uprooting silver collars, bracelets, armlets
Finger rings too along with
Amber beads not unlike flax seeds.
Mutterings of treasure trove sprout darkly
In the other sheds where his
Neighbours want their share but
Greenhouses grow security guards now while
Worst of all
Parsnips and peas wither waiting for the
One bright note is Fred's new cough.
They say its the curse of the Vikings.