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DORSET POETRY
I have written a great many poems about Dorset and the Gypsies which at one time frequented its landcapes and heathlands. The following are an assortment of more of my work. I hope you enjoy. reminescencies of dorset With the dock leaves spread across the ground the fallow earth and moles own mounds the leaves of autumn spread around the farmers walks and Dorset fox n hounds the cockerel crowing in the morn the dogs that bark across the lawns the walls of purbeck stone lie hard the dandelions growing in the yard the village church and steeple tower the morning mists and autumns showers the sun that comes a peeking through the hills n dales of avenues the Wessex tales of Hardy's books the tales of Enid blytons adventures and crooks the William Barnes great poetry the Dorset hills i love to see the sandy shores of swanage town the grockels who visit our town the wareham walls and bells that chime the lambs that play most of the time the markets places where we meet the little shops and quaint old streets the stoborough green and village hall the kinson stocks where nobles all were paraded daily one and all the lulworth cove and durdle door the forest roads and seaside shores the folks who talk that durzet dialect so free take me back to times when i were with ee.
PEASANTS AND THIEVES
Pet Clark went to school in bovington where the tanks did roll and roar where the guns all fired at lulwotrh close to durdle door they say its a seventh wonder that Wessex coastal range where hardy wrote his novels where Barnes was rich in fame
the framptons had their meetings of union and freemen there were peasants and true noblemen where the foxes built their dens egdon heath it spread to weymouth took in moreton track where john weld had his great mansion where the masters wore the sack.
Dorset trails
i walked the roads of dorset when i lived at Carey camp i knew the durzet country i didn't need no map or lamp
i strolled the hills of the purbecks climbed the creech burrows highest point ambled through the meadows the ranges at lulworth where they say there's hippys hidden joints
could tell ya many a story about olde wareham town the mickey monkey on the quayside the swans belong to the crown
the bell ringing i did at st Marys the wrestling ring at weymouth town swanage steam railways a ride for half a crown
the grockels at the seaside the mermaids at Poole bay the little cottage of hardy the clouds hill of old shaw on the way
the garrison at bovy the sandbanks sandy shores the commons of old kinson the egdon heather moors
the lodge hills up to ferndown the gals out at west moors the fairgrounds back of Poole harbor the lady bankes of corfe
the castle of blytons adventures the cherries soccer's hallowed turf the Dorchester museum the maids castle with no stone
the arched doorway to the seaside the lulworth rocky shore n home the children playing chase the common country laws
the wool bridge manor sanctuary the walks up to Arne and ridge the rooks and the many bites of midge
the park at poole where a little train still runs the meadows and the family of Barnes the Bere regis road to dorset town
the jolly roger ships the ship n willet arms n crown the speedway and the circus tops the pleasant country rides the singing of the warbler birds the lapping of the tides
twas a pleasant scene my dears with children by the score we walked the dorset country then next week there was more- children.
ST ANDREWS
At st Andrews church down millhams lane the grass grew tall twas a real bad pain the stream it flowed neath pathway neat no one knew twas beneath their feet
the 15th century church it stands with scented flowers well at hand the river stour runs nearby the stinging nettles the blandford fly
the meadows rich the longham lanes the church clock tower the fancy window panes the bell that chimes out the hour old Gulliver the yellow scented meadow flowers
the modern hall that john Moore built the purbeck stone the seaside silt the dartford warbler in the trees the landscaped banks with bumble bees
the car park that floods each autumn rain the renovation work that took place down millhams lane the cemetery that stretched one time across the millham road before the cross the congregation that sang his praise the kinson church the history books the revolving tomb the little bridge the hidden room
the family heritage that dates afar before the modern home or car the walks across to the ferndown ridge st Andrews church look what they did
DORSET TALES
where thatch grew rich upon the downs where as a child i bedded down where rivers ran and streams did play country proud and zunners gay
where farmland stretched within the eye where grass was long and trees were high where lanes were twisting tales of life where birds and vixen spent their nights
where cock did crow and gals did chase across the heath where kisses saved
there neath the boughs where blossoms bloomed they chased the girls for afternoons where church bells sounds and forest woke to sunshine leaves and farmers jokes
where inns were rich in course n tones where ale was drunk and debts were loaned across these lands of farming folk the village idiot once eloped
within the shades of oak and birch the milkmaid with the lads would converse tales were told and songs were sung along the purbeck hills left wondering
where tanks now haunt the countryside once was a gem of life abide the past is just a treasure trove of memories of flying geese and summers breeze
where dartford warblers sang each morn sand lizards scurried across warehams high lawns the river frome could tell a tale once frozen over afore the sale
Dorset journeys
the sandpits games of yesterdays gave way to enterprise they say. a fine galleon sailed into durdle door where the waves did splash upon the shores
where nearby lulworth cove gave pirates bold secret caves to hide their treasure troves in wool bridge manor by egdon heath thats where local zunners cut their teeth
on bere regis road the headless woman lived near wareham forests where deer hid at Poole bay by the lord nelsons inn Gulliver the pirate went a courting
at Lilliput sands he sailed away with contraband of tea almost every day at least thats what the locals do say
to alderney manor studio Augustus john the artist on Gypsy's pony rode to kinsons Pelham's house where Gulliver lived there they shared the yarns with jolly roger Sid
the Poole pirates are in the bay when lady wishbone gave the canford kids a holiday oh twas quite a durzet day when the heather grew on stud-land bay
at swanage the secret seven met the famous five when Enid blyton was so young and wise she wrote great kiddies tales as her her enterprise she made the laughter in their eyes
baden Powell formed the scouts at brownsea land listen to the salvation army band in days of yesterday and more Thomas hardy wrote of Tess on egdon moor
so folks do come to Poole to find out more.
WOOL YOUTH
i travelled back to Wool today watched the zunners hard at play the wool-bridge manor stood so grand the little bridge the river spanned felt like they were in my hand
the track which ran to Moreton heath the winding road to visit Keith the durberville village hall the little thatched cottages cute n small the road to lulworth durdle door the hours spent there when we thought we knew it all
the hill to bovy garrison abode the winter when it snowed and snowed the ship hall where we would ofttimes dance chatting up gals oh sweet romance
the swans and sheep the fields and the honey sweet the cowslips and buttercups beneath your feet
the barbecues at durdle door the driftwood fires collected n built upon the shores the guitar players the folky songs the nights that seemed to go on and on
the fair at Wool which runs each year the smiles and laughs the fights and tears the mods and rockers the dens in the woods the gang of twenty like robin hood
lambretta scooters and greaser bikes the days were hot the long long hikes the fields of clover the dips n dales the cows n meadows the farmyard smells
the days of merriment in our youth the trains we caught to weymouth town the highs the lows the ups and downs OH what you could buy for just half a crown.
FAIRGROUND DAYS
i remember nights at the fairground they said twas the biggest in the land there were booths in every corner sounds of the rolling bands
the aisles were full of laughter with sights for all to see just a stones throw away from Upton stretched out by the sea
the Ferris wheel was turning the swish-back rides were fun there were crowds of happy children in wonder everyone
the stars above were sparkling the bumper rides were joy there were gypsy horses stalled there with traveler's standing by
the wall of death was awesome with bikes to catch your eye hear the thuds of the hard balls flying at those coconuts shies
this was the traditional fairground some said twas the biggest in the land with darts forever flying goldfish bags to carry in your hand
the bearded lady danced there the midgets gave a show close to Poole old backwaters where many breezes blowed
Freddie mills he boxed there the Sherwood's were there too with Stanley's and the crutchers bill rogers played the fool.
The BLACK BEAR HOTEL
As a child i lived in the black bear hotel where celebrity's came from near and far there were film stars of screen and stage the Beverley's and pop stars of that golden age they came to wareham on the frome where the purbeck hills were our true home
the grockels came to walk and stare along with poets and artiste fair the banter of the market stalls the fish you caught and the names they called
the church that stood upon the hill the walls of grass and the meadows fields the cows that gathered in stoborough lane the pound where i courted Mary Jane
the school where stuckey gave us boys the cane the quay with monkey susie inside a cage with her big tin collecting box upon a chain
the press and media came to stay in black bear rooms for high class pay the little shops that sold quaint pots the sandpits and the bestwalls smocks
the tourist haunts of Lawrence Shaw the anglebury cafe and the kids so poor the lady st Mary bells that chimed the verse i wrote and the poems that rhymed
GYPSIES IN CLOVER
Miles away from nowhere at the back of way beyond i met a band of gypsy folk travelling was their bond
down in the hollows valley where commons stretched the land twas up near high top common where gypsies lived so grand
down near cuckoo bottom not from from monkeys hump across the hill from knottys old man trents big dump
you could see it on the Manning's where the chimney tall did stand across from granters farm house with pullets oh so grand
the cockerels crowed each morning where Arnold's tied their horses where Betty made daisy chains where the brickyard was so red and high where the gaffer wore watch chain
not far from shoulder mutton where john did sketch n paint nude models in his studio for just a penny rent
across from alderney hospital along the ringwood road where whites stored his pipes where little Truth remains
old sankey had the clay pits where Rogers worked each day sweating in the ovens covered in brown clay
the gypsies roamed the heathers where lady guest was rarely seen twas all a Sweet memory when Victoria was queen.
Wareham lad
on wareham walls i played as a lad the good times and the bad catching lizards and building dens sandpit's swimming by the meadows sweet back then
with sounds of crickets at your feet nearby the millers favorite haunts wherein the brooks the boys did taunt under the shadey oaken tree where samways raised a family
by yonder farm and haystack high where ducks and geese did oft times fly the martins Church sits upon the brow the north street lanes in nearby fields the farmers ploughed
where bestwall gals did so frequent and folks went down to pay their rents whilst the markets on a Thursday morn awoke the gentry all forlorn
farm laborers all were raised in style we walked those purbeck hills for many a mile the quayside monkey mickey was in a cage collected for lifeboats for to save
the cockerel crowed to start the day samways son ken was a making hay many worked hard to earn a wage all the kids were at the rec to play
David best and mp mellor too it was holiday whilst all the corn was shipped to Poole.
A KID IN WAREHAM
when i was a kid in wareham i played upon the walls the grass was green n high then you had one hella long way to fall
we caught lizards daily n minnows on the quay i rang the bells on sundays we had rabbit pie for our tea
the cuckoos lived in stoborough then they let them out the gate on Thursday Easter fun day we ate hot Cross buns
on the burrow there at creche we collected chestnuts down home lane played conkers whilst at school the masters name was stuckey old samways played the fool
the kids all loved the river then we had the fair i dated lots of pretty gals with ringlets in their hair
David mellor i once babysat he became a con then David best turned down man utd guess he thought that he knew best dont know what he was on
hardy wrote about the town the place i love the best when i was a kid in wareham they put me through the test.
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The labourers parish
there's a natural streams runs under the flagstone pathway of the church with a heavy arched stone carved out in the delightful little porch the fields and meadows all around are buttercup and lily wet with leaves of emerald green and shrubs around yon fence
the walks to bourne valley and the hills of high intent are gathered with the elder trees that frequent this relent there's a a pub called shoulder of mutton where john Augustus did frequent where the pedlar's and the gypsy kings did pay no council rent
the roads to ringwood market was long and heavy down with heathers and Rhodie bushes with fir trees spread around the kinson green was famous for the stocks where fools were locked with ponies for the common man and Gulliver attired the grass was course and hills were steep were gypsy vans did ride where chaffinch chirped and warblers song was the Gypsy's greatest pride
though gravel pits and clay were rich whilst brickyards were employed with families for to work till dusk every man and boy the heaths were rich in bird and Brier and the springs upon the down where lodge hill stood and men made good all work for half a crown
the work was hard with hours long and laborer's earnt their pay from morning light to dinner time until the end of day.
secret Britain
There's a secret Britain that only gypsies see where the grass is green and mellow with blossoms on the trees here adders squirm in heather sweet where lizards rush n hide where the chaffinch sings at daybreak and where warblers sing their pride
there's a secret beauty Britain a castle walk to share where cove meets door of durdle when the sun shines il be there there's a rolling hill afore me with a castle on the hill a cuckoo calls to greet you nearby the warehams rivers mill
there's a golden haunt morning when the suns up in the sky there's a wagon rolling freely with freedom for you and i.
The oak dales of Poole
The kinson pottery stood near the old wareham road where the tower was in sight just across from the wold the brambles did grow down to oakdale and Poole where as children they played young chivvies and fools
the turners and warrens did frequent the heaths where canfoird and sea view were up at the breech there were vardos around and down the old lanes where birdsong and chaffinch sang on the wane
the new inn-was open and the chapels at rest where the beech trees once stood and the sparrows did nest the hurdy gurdy played in the old town today whilst the children did dance and the grinder did play
the old songs have gone now and the gypsies remain though there housed in the terraces in red brick and pane no more do they wander yet some do remain amongst the brass and the gorse where there's tinder and reins
oh how they did turn to the dance and the song when the accordions played and their stories went on the brickyards and viaducts grew on the downs where the gravel pits rich and the poets were strong
the Poole park was rich then so rich for the king with its gardens of primrose and its fountains and streams the dolphins they greeted one at each gate where the lodhges were rich and the sailors were mates
they say churchill came here with his sketch pad and pen his cigars were lit and their stories were famed like the trails that were rich in rabbits and dens where the fox once did frequent amongst poets and wrens.
Dorset steam fair
ye old steam fair is here each year upon the downs with fun and beer the oil it smells and the tracks are mud where cars are parked upon the meadows green the carousels play and delight the scene
the crowds flock here again this year to buy the goods or storm the gears there's gypsy folk and traveler's tales with smoky air and diesel smells
there's big machines to roll n ride across the Dorset countryside where zunners run and play n stare at all the folks within the fair
with marquee tents and music rock stalls to sale and gears to lock amusements rich in fields of green bikers parades and beauty scenes
crowds of folks flock here each year to mingle and to enjoy the spirit here where hills are steep and views are grand the steam fair spreads across this land
WAREHAM CARNIVAL
streets thronged with zunners dogs and revelries grockels in tow and local breeds expected faces and sounds of laughter greet the air congested sidewalks girls with belly's bare
Church bells ring and town clock chimes village bobbies to make it run on time wardens and children everywhere carnivals here but wheres the fair
like some events out of the past hot sunny afternoon that lasts ans lasts voices raised and moods of grace glasses in hand with bitter taste
entourage full of revelries majorettes dancing wee children on their knees music and laughter with dulcet tones riverside crowds all heading home
drinkers and boozers from taverns doors gaze on and smile know not for children playing and schools parade dresses in summer each fair maid
swans on the water graced in white riverbank bathers what a sight sirens of jeeps and trucks on the streets highways no traffic allowed just folks at play
Charlie from the village
Charlie Williams lived in the village just close to cuckoo woods where the bluebells grew so thick n tall close to where the stocks once stood
he lived with Bertha his loving wife far from the welsh hills tracks where birdsong was his childhood melodies where nothing did he lack
there's the Little bungalow by the winding track where I often came to call where we chatted in the morning light then at the evenings fall
old Charlie was a Williams’s lad far from his native land where the valleys were of evergreen the mines were steep tall and grand
Charlie could tell a yarn when locals came to call the children played there in the sun whilst the wood pigeons gave their calls
he would sit and feed the robins there you could see him every day he feed them from his open hands before he went away
FARMERS BOY
yesterday i took a walk down winding tracks where birdsong greets the mornings realms where reeds and heathers there bestow a pleasure garden all on show
i gazed on hills that spread so green where lambs and seagulls paint the scene where clouds of cotton wool bestow their joy of life all spread below
across the heaths of rabbit run where fox give chase and farmers son sing all their songs of folks in prayer to wallow in the beauty there
i spied the tractor o'er the soil the fields of grain across the moors the lilac trees and nettles sweet where tramps and ladies trod their feet
the sea of spray where fishes dance the sands of time and pebbles chance the sailboats riding on the spray the sun shines bright across the bay
the tower clock doth chimes the hour the church bells ring across the stour the zunners run from school this day whilst lovers frolic in the hay
i spy the village pond and water pump the five bar gate where walkers hump their rucksacks and poles of fine regard all just across from the farmers yard
the geese give chase to Mary Jane whilst dogs do bark and lords do monies gain where stone wall walks are set in sand where hardy wrote and Barnes statue still doth stand
where market hawkers give full guest whilst zunners run amongst the best where pubs and cafes do imitate the history of the landed Gentry's fate
the walks i took that summers day across the purbecks right of ways where travelers rest and shoulders rich in history lessons spread across the purbecks ditch
whilst warblers sang and lizards squirmed the adder slid and the slow worm the master poet was lost in joy when i was just a child and farmers boy
A DURZET POET
he wasn't yet in running for the poet laureate for he was destined for heartaches and only sad regrets he was once just a hobbly hoy or so his grandma say though he was a dreamer with these visions in his head
for days and nights he studied life and all its hidden realms he knew that he was destined for some young darlings arms the shadows of existence cast a spell his way with charms but he was lost in wonder there sitting on the bay of qualms
the village children mocked at him and the jester called him names but he was just so sanctimonious would not join in their foolish games he lit a pipe for peace each night and granted wishes too but he was just a foolish dreamer for thats what poets do
the village life was restful though its ways were foolish talk the yokels were just farmer boys with hay and old pitchforks though he was uncouth and ignorant to the city's modern ways he preferred to dream at night and roll gals in the hay
though he would often recite realms of verse and rhyme his adversaries and peers read his prose upon the vine the walks he took and tales he told were harmless and so rare though he preferred the scenic life and the journey to the fairs
all the joys of youthfulness were strung upon his frame all his sweetheart maidens blessed his love heart games though fanciful and gaiety were terms no longer used he wrote of knights in Armour and lovers on the loose
his words were cast in diamond text with sonnets running through his prose and dialect was cast in durzets nasal tones as he mimicked the farmers boys at the castle on the dome then he whistled in his melody as he took the long walk home
Dorset days out
In this quiet corner of the world where love and peace reside i watched the birds all in their flight the spays upon the tides
the cottage nestled in the shade beside a flowing stream where thatch and bower meet the sky in my Dorset country scene
the cottages of stoborough green the fields and meadows mean the growing lilac and the reeds the splendid village scenes
the castle high upon the hill where Cromwell came to call where royal blood and honored blood was spilled before the victors fall
i hear the calling of the cows the sheep amongst the green where village zunners ran and played where kings were crowned and queens were laid
the hills of purbeck beckons me with Hardy tales anew where Barnes and blyton told their yarns where grockels came to Poole
NEWTOWN DAY
I remember new town when i was just a kid sherbet dabs after breakfast with liquorice on the lid i remember the old school bell the playground where we played the days seemed cold and long then in my childhood days
i remember the sea view that walk upon the hill with coney's falling to the ground and squirrels a running still i recall the little church with bell that rang each morn the number 8 school bus and picnics on the lawn
i recall those simple days with dobbin on the heath the walks across to Waterloo and the wide commons where we cut our teeth old sankey ward the clay pits man and old buller archer too where knotty built his caravans next to Trent's cars SCRAPYARD too
those rides up to the regal we all called up on hill the old brown rossmore bus i hear its running still the old shoulder of mutton pub where only few could stand the Albion where they played shove halfpenny when life was simply grand
the kids all played at conkers then and most were diddy kye i ran around upon the heaths or at the fairgrounds shies the gypsies roamed the heaths so free and spun a tale or two i chased the gals around a lot and tied my laces too
some kids went to salvation hall to see Nativity's i spent nights with granfer reg inside hamworthy engineering sites n sprees we ate bread n cheese and chased with dogs a ferrit on the run with strings of rabbits all in line up afore the morning sun
the school truant waterman he rode a bike with bell you could see him coming down the lane n taste like a dam foul smell the roads were quieter those days and there was no TV the gals picked flowers on the heath and we had bread n jelly for our tea
some kids played flick cards every day or marbles on the mac you could buy sweets for just half pence or take a high rise slide the trees were tall and fine those days and we could climb them true there was no silly strangers then and no foolish health and safety rules
WAREHAM PASTIMES
When coach and horses rode through wareham town the lady bankes was for the crown the corfe castle it stood on yonder hill whilst stoborough village was just a mile from the old mad millers mill the high walls of green that circled the town then all the farmers gathered around
in east street market stalls and sells the country yokels drank of the ales from wareham quay the ship it sailed with gold and bullion tea and whales the samways thatch at bestwall stood where young girls dreamt of motherhood the river frome and redcliffe ridge where robbers strode and varmints hid
where zunner boys did stones and skim the local volks told tales of these happenings the road to swanage was fast and free where visitors dropped in for tea
nearby at poole the brownsea boys the pirate Gulliver once did employ at kinson village and durdle door the round heads of Cromwell once did explore
though wareham streets still stands today nearby the barns of thatchy hay where corn market stalls did sell their wares whilst the pretty gals just stood and stared My Dorset
The castle of adventure high upon the hill the quiet little village where is the flowing rivers mill
the tumbling heather meadows the grassy purbeck tracks the wayward traveler returns a rucksack on his back
the high point oer the valley the twinkling summer nights the seaside and the meadows the stones of purbeck white
the harbor and the mainland the pottery and the park where the dolphins swims at daybreak at the singing of the lark
its the Hardy blooming country where the Barnes tall statue stands where dorsets tolpuddle martyrs once formed a loyal band where john the artist painted gypsies o so grand
theres the little commonwealth shaftesbury school i view the camp where Lawrence rode
near the liitle meadow haystacks herein lived the wareham miller mad the markets and the country folk the squires and granddad
by the lady wimborne cottage the dairies sold their milk by the cowsheds and the rivers where the wandering minstrels made their sounds neath grassed walls around the olde wareham town
soft down beneath your head a flower for your pretty hand garlands for your bed a rose to plant beneath the bough and a kiss beneath the leaves its a dorset life for me.
ON CANFORD HEATH
Two miles from wimborne town was canford manor school where lord and lady wimborne lived across the heath from Poole
where Churchill came to visit for they were his family and the king of england also came traveling in carriages of gold it said that he threw coins to newtown kids at least thats what I'm told cause they were good as gold
it was at canford magna its name was written in the book the history books tell it you just gotta look
there were lodges on the heath that time and rabbits by the score then the years past and Britain was at war
granfer rogers and his family built brickyard's on the moor the Luftwaffe bombed the heath that time they mistook the brickyard for holton heath near warehams door where ammunition was made this caused much grief
there were foxes warren upon the hills and chickens on the farms but granfer had his six barrel and lots of fancy new alarms
the Gypsy's sites were scattered around though some were diddy coy there was lots of open country then so good for girls and boys
flowers grew wild and free at hand with pine tree and the birch heather stretched across the land with poppies and sweet flowers young girls they gathered baskets young men they ferreted around the hills
old men they smoked their pipes canford was beautiful then before the cars and trikes
WARBLERS SONG
.Tuesday morning the sun is waiting to shine on you As the birds sing us a melody or two When morning rushes in to stay To watch the sky of further days
For its to come that summer breeze Amongst the budding willow trees The warbler sings his high pitch song For the hen bird all day long.
BRENDA WILLS
A DORSET TOWN
In a durzet town where i was born the dolphins played at break of dawn the cockerel's crowed and the cuckoos cried to be let out the gate the zunners played at the seas first tide and was never late
the poet he did write a rhyme and Augustus drew the gypsies fine old hardy he wrote a tale or two and Barnes wore fancy buckled shoes
the clock it chimed out the hour the miller mad fished by the stour the durdle door was open wide and the fishermen came in by the tide
the park was given by a lady guest and blyton wrote adventures blessed the pirates rode on silver bikes and Freddie mixed with lords and tykes
Stevenson lodged above the bay and we went to market on Thursday stainer's was a cobbler till today and castles and kings rode the gypsy way the fair lodged on alder hills whit Saturdays and zunners played amongst the hay A LOOK AT WAREHAM
There were cobbled streets in wareham town lots of pubs but not a rose and crown there were sandpit's and saw pits too plus Carey camp to take kids to
on the quay we swam and fished where the river frome swans did kiss there were walks up winding tracks to redcliffes ridge across from stoboroughs farms and markets bids
the clock it struck upon the hour there where the old granary did turn the flour the mad miller lived by warehams walls where lizards swarmed and yokels talked
nearby the town where Lawrence stone was laid a tribute to his moreton grave the hardy town where farmers talked where deer once ran and forests walkk
as a child we chased the girls across those downs and wareham walls the bestwall tracks and lundigo the wareham fair and the country show
here kings rode to corfe each day the castle on the hills still there today the road to swanage where blyton lived the purbeck isle and the tales the yokels bid
old wareham town was in doomsday book its charms alive still just take a look
AS A BOY As a boy on the canford heath i broke hearts and teeth i climbed the pines and silver birch the heath was my church
the Manning's was my sweet domain roses climbing daisy chains
acorns and fir cones opened wide grassy banks and water springs to ride heather dew and furze bush branch chimney stack and crickets dance
hares a leaping on the moor cattle grazing goldfinch robin and bumble bees weeping willow and tall oak trees what a boyhood life for me just across from alderney
BESSIE
I met her at wool lane in the spring when boughs did blossom an blackbirds did sing
she was up for it ready to go she wore a bonnet her bum was bare so i took her to a show down at wareham fair
i paraded her upon the green oh twas a pleasant sunny scene there were farmers there squires and more they said what are ya asking for er
farmer samways he paid ten bob i said twould do was just the job he took her home to his new farm near Poole
thats where she lives with Bert his boar i never seen such a fat sow since or before than Bessie the pig there Ive said it all
BIRD MAN OF DORSET
The bird man of durzet knew every bird call knew every grass tracks and every tree tall
he could whistle a tune and serenade the day he was born in the country on a warm zummers day
the wind it was whistling and the sky it was blue the parish was longham and his home was in Poole
he was up with the sun and down with the owl he knew every bird and many a fowl
he carried a musket and a brown haversack and a blackbird alighted there on his back
his melody hummed and his chorus was rich he traveled the heather aside of the ditch
across worgret manor and down to woolbridge he painted the swans there and then walked on to ridge
he whistled a song there on the hill of Arne then traveled on to the stoborough village farm
the songbirds were chirping and the hay it was low the stacks were a bundled and it was all quite a show
so he lay on the turf on the top of creech burrow and gazed at the view for many an hour.
BLYTONS DORSET
I recall the secret seven and the famous five those blyton stories kept me alive tales of caves and treasure troves maps and walks above lulworh cove
the sandy shores of sandbanks downs the stud-land beach and the dunes so white the rocky cliffs of Dorset towns the hilly walks o'er purbecks mounds
the secret tunnels that we took the castle gates at corfe the ways we took the rambling countryside and towns the bikes and dogs the kings and crowns
the englishness of swanage beach the view of Wessex just outta reach the grassy meadows where we played the punch n Judy shows on our summer holidays
BOY IN A PICTURE
A picture tells a story just a country boy with a present on his birthday hey there ship ahoy a dog to keep him company a heath to run and play it was his eighth birthday
the sun was shining brightly spring was in the air the birds were singing in the trees he didn't have a care
just a boy upon the heathland afore the roads were planned no houses on the forecourt no troubles in his hands
th heath it stretched afore him with rabbits by the score four and twenty blackbirds singing to st Paul
just two plus twenty cowsheds pig sty's by the score hundreds of chickens a brickyard chimney tall
orchards with blossoms allotments and ganders running free just a country farming boy in the page of history
no television pictures no on line or PC just accumulator radio a walk upon the lea
a canford magna storybook a spring running free fresh water for a shower blackberry's for tea
dogs chasing rabbits foxes on the hunt quiet life upon the heath teas ready says the farmers wife
the brickyard stood across the way clay pits on the hill gravel pits down the valley can smell the heather still
Gypsy's in their caravans painted so artistic and divine dancing gals with castanets trailing dress behind dark tanned gypsy ladies hardened gypsy men ponies running wild and free had some time for me
the artist called Augustus painted our house heather view also painted Mary gear she was in the buff too
there were poppies in the meadows heathers on the downs the land was all one common then belonged to the crown
our house was called the Manning's our farm was acres two we kept a lot of poultry doves and pigeons too
all of this is gone now theres houses by the score but no one knows their neighbor guess the children are so poor
just a multi storey complex picture houses fine McDonald's and bars a plenty to drink a glass of wine
no sign of the country where rabbits all ran free just that faded picture of the boy that once was me.
BROWNSEA ISLAND BOYS I took a trip to brownsea island just a ride out from Poole bay where baden Powell created the scouts movement one fine day with just 10 public school boys plus ten boys from Poole town he led the first scout camp at a cost of less than half a crown
on brownsea was a hermit in the 7th century he lit fires to warn boats of danger perils on the sea now in august this year we all celebrate the scouts 100th year anniversary took a trip to brownsea island to see the pheasants on display the red squirrels running freely the cockells in the bay
the sandbanks at Poole quayside see all the grockells here to stay the boats are in Poole harbor on such a lovely summers day see the camps all on the island the zunners all at play.
COME TO POOLE
The dolphin centre high street bazaar olde world fair bumper cars
pirates speedway tower park canford heath birds wee train in the park
old town quay with grockels in tow cockles and eels and art centre show
lord wimborne tavern nelson and the ship hamworthy bridge alder hill ridge
Ashley road shops baiter point views sandbanks and studland what a great place is Poole
canford cliffs Compton gardens with acres to view Poole railway station town museum and more come down to Poole what you waiting for sandy clean beaches safe tides too
beautiful scenery of brownsea isle isle of wight purbeck hills old harry in sight come to Poole stay for the night.
COMMERCIAL SEASIDE
Seaside town roadside cafes boats in the bay seagulls a squawking bracing new day
kids on holiday sand and the pebbles cut bitter toes crabs in the rocks floss on your clothes
grockles aplenty cockles galore winkles and eels Sand on the shore
surf on the tide ships on the sail sandbanks and ferries seaweed and cockleshells galore
punch in a stall tents and towels guys and gals holiday crowds everything gaudy everything loud.
OLD KINSON
Did you know old kinson afore there was west Howe did you know it stretched to sea view on the edge of Poole somehow
did you know it was a wild desolate place where gypsies rode on horseback granfer knew his place
did you know it was a village where Gulliver ran free did you know it kinson then was just pure history
did you know about the coopers and the whites who made the pipes and clay did you know about the king who visited lady wimborne one day
did you know about the family of guests the artist at the alderney manor bet now you are impressed
did you know about the crutchers the stables and the tanner did you know about old kinson afore newtown was born
did you know about st Andrew's it was the parish afore Poole that stainer's was a cobbler who mended all the shoes
did you know about the pottery did you know about the heath did you know about Bourne bottom or even cuckoo woods
did you know about old kinson the stocks upon the green the round table it was at canford school just across from poole the bear cross was just a bare road across
the rhododendrons bushes that stretched to waterloo the Manning's heath farmland and rogers brickyard too the Slade's farm at Columbia was in kinson too
did you know its mentioned in the doomsday its famous down in Poole famous people came to visit or as they traveled through
did you know about old kinson before the Bennett's family crew all the gypsy sites to Poole their caravans scattered throughout wallisdown where the rabbits ran so freely then upon the pretty heather down
did you know old kinson before the caravans when knotty wasn't born did you know the Stanley's did you know their names did you know the gillinghams here we go again
did you know old kinson when it was just old gravel n sandy tracks afore john Augustus painted Mary gear so nude in the sack
did you know about the lodges on the hills of canford heath did you know thats where i cut my teeth.
DORSET
Its a long walk back to Dorset past the good ole hampshire trails through the devon countryside down the somerset divide
The winding tracks of heather the wispy trails of grass the haystacks and the meadows the swallows which fly past
The landscapes of the artists etched out in hazy morning sun in early morning sunrise of a journey just begun
Around little thatched roofed cottages wild roses twisted thorns sweet apples kissed in scarlet nectar of the bee cider apple scrumpy rugged stoned rocky cliffs around the sea
The castle on the hillside oer purbecks twisted dales the sweetest scents of heather that ever man did smell the green lanscape life of swanages greatest tales the highest points whilst walking oer rugged purbecks views and the whisper of the talking winds that always follows you
The inn where coach and horses are all restsfull in the sun below the tall wide great oak tree where once the smugglers ran its the talk of the local yeomen farmers one and all arrayed in finest clothing like lords out of the past all gathered around with all manner of courtesises and flasks wathching others a dancing in morris men regale breathing in the aromatic fragrance of heathers first dawns smell
Its a long walk back to Durzet you An i mus be on my way back to my homelands tracks and trails through the commons heathered bound with treasures stored in heaven and love in Durzet found.
WAREHAM ON A SUNDAY
The lady st mary church bells do chime early morn tis half past nine to honour him with bread and wine in Wareham on a sunday
alongside the river runs and winds to redcliffes ridge with rushes tall and swans regale the winding narrow footpath it turns and twists along alongside stoboroughs fields and meadow mists here where tis said the first cuckoo is let out in may herald the spring with hares a leaping in the hay whilst local zunners run and play
Where young rabbits do skip amongst the lambs high up on grassy slopes of the ridge highway whilst grokel tourists sleep on sound in their modern caravans and the farmer samways eats his egg and bacon this is wareham on a sunday.
WAREHAM ON MARKET DAY
come to warehams market place on a sunny summer thursday afternoon hear the jokes and banter of hawkers selling their wares plus sheets and spoons watch the auction of cattle in the concreted floor space within the high iron bars surround there an auctioneering sports a white coat sitting on a three legged chair
In a galvanised shed with little room to move little rabbits hang grey and gutted so uncouth tied so tight on string in line whilst flies aplenty seek refuge in their sad eyes.
Tiny bantam cockeral run free pecking at the corn treading hens on wings who look forelorn All a running through the very many scattered stalls
where rabbits hutches lie nigh and caged songbirds are so pensing though their song delights the crowds of peopole sauntering an goldfinch songbirds sing out their trill to their offspring
The old town hall clock in the square chimes out the hour on a sunny afternoon.
DORSET DAYS
The patriots dance beneath the wareham walls where frome and piddle run and play where samways plays his fiddle the sun it smiles on bestwalls crew like any other day whilst zunners laugh and frolic gals roll in the hay
oh diddle diddle rode the hills across the purbecks downs we all met up on market day i bought a pig for half a crown
where grass grows tall where swans regale ride upon the tide i spied my love that night in June though lies i cant abide
the masters of the spinning wheels spun their simple yarn whilst boys and girls danced at dawn down upon the farm
the crows they squawked and lambs did play upon the hillside proud the forests walks were rich in deer though natures voice was loud
the cuckoo sang its funny rhyme where stobough meadows lie the cows were rich in cowslips then that sunny summers day
the church of st Mary's rang its bells so rich in tone i stood upon the corfe hill road a poet all alone.
LONGHAM WALK
Yesterday we walked to longham kinson common n mead on the way saw about 500 rabbits they were in the fields at play we walked out to where the stables once skirted the bridle paths there were ponies in the meadows we whistled and we laughed
they have built upon the beauty the woodlands and the green rows of mansion houses destroyed most of the scenes we stopped upon the river bank the stour was in full flow it must have been a heron giving us a show there were swans of regalia floating with fisher boys with lines we sure loved it in longham the scenery divine
we dropped into the bridge house to telly savallis it once belonged he would drop in on his helicopter on Lolly's he was strong we walked back through old kinson the bridge which German's prisoners built the st Andrews church n grounds where Gulliver's tomb did tilt
though longham was delightful with its lady guests fine cottage house its thatched roofs and its quaintness its still quiet as a mouse except for the flow of traffic along the ringwood road though its kept its unique character with its field mice and its toads.
DURZET MAN
When Barnes was in Dorchester reside the purbecks were true countryside the egdon heath was a desolate place where the peasant folks they knew their place
where geese n gander hissed all day and little zunners ran and played where grass was green and banks were high where rivers n streams set the scene across the durzet countryside
from wool bridge manor to lulworths door across egdon heath to studland shore the grass was tall and manners fine where toffs and lords drank berry wine
in wareham town on Thursday morn the gypsies came to collect the corn the corn exchange twas packed with farmers too the market place sold lambs from wool
the trees were high and rivers wide where samways kissed his future bride the swanage crew were set to shore and weymouth beach was waiting for lords and ladies kings and queens pastors clergy and foreign deans
Poole harbor was the place to be famed for its cargo's out to sea hardy wrote of these times romantic notions and tales of woe people places from Poole to lundigo
tolpuddle men met in secret haunts to form the union of free men from ranks of time and history purbeck was born from out of the sea
an island set in purbeck stone with lanes and hills and dips and dales country folk sights and smells heathered hills and grassy walls listen to the thrush that calls
the surfing seas the silvery sands the poetic words of the durzet man.
famers daughter
She was my first love my lady amour she took me dancing and bird nesting on the moors
we did hay making together at that time of year she was a farmers daughter and i was in love my dear
she wore pretty floral dresses that went down to the floor she tied her hair in ribbons and knew what love was for
she took me in her den twas hidden in a stack she was a beauty in her stance and more so pon her back
the straw n corn did tickle and the hay went down your back she wore a pretty scarlet bonnet tied up with lace her breasts were rare and ample and a very pretty face
she had a master key she turned it in my lock and made sweet love with me after playing postman's knock
her stature it was bonny and her dialect was course she taught me all life's lessons next to stables with the horse
her father was a farmer and her mother made good bread her brothers were my schoolmates her sisters they were proud you took note of what they said
she took me to the vicar for to see if we could wed for we had made our own bed
and the village children laughed at us and the horse was called old Ned
she was a Darling sweetheart but a flirt to say no less for she ran away on all saints day with a squires son called Jed.
in the country
The country lad was up at dawn to milk the cows and mow the lawn the dairymaid was kinda sweet she gathered daisies at her feet
the morning sun was breaking through as the cockerel crowed his cock a doodle do the ganders chased the boys and gals and the lad took water from the well
the farmers wife was baking cakes and the farmer was in town on the make
the distant church bells did chime as the poet wrote another silly rhyme
love in dorset
We built sand castles at sandbanks swam naked in studland bay walked through Compton acres walked along shell bay
we ran through country meadows tripped down country lanes made love in the hayricks in wareham in the rain
we rode a bus to kinson danced on the village green went to the fair at alder hills then went to paint the scenes
we cuddled up at purbeck view afore the sun went down then we went to corfes great castle then we went to weymouth town
the stars came out to meet us and i took your hand again told you that i loved you one more time again
we kissed in the full moonlight when all the seagulls soared and then we went a walking over at west moors
the air was fresh and scented there was blossoms on the trees you told me sad old stories and you made me hold you close
i kissed you in a stone doorway it was near lulworth bay we made love in the sand dunes you stole my heart away.
LULWORTH VISIT
Carousel ladies with wishing well hats cricket players with oaken wood bats trumpet players in the village band they all had me to make promises i couldn't keep they all rode to market in a green jeep
the durdle door surf it was mighty a roar and the sand it was fine and the love was amour
the crabs they were tiny and bit many toes and the rugged rocks they tore at your clothes the baskets were laden with lobsters a crying and there many many a chef happily frying
the lulworth lord was in his terrain the tanks were fireing the castle drew grockels the trust it was financially fine the village was dead and sold off its hopes at the last war time
whilst the car park prices were too dear by far so don't come to Lulworth my dears if you get there by car.
old kinson
In cukoo woods at kinson green the village life was evergreen the gulliver arms the smugglers rest ye olde oak the millhams rest
by stour brook and st andrews tower we watched the ducks ride oer meadow flowers we picked bluebells in the sun and watched the children play and run
in east howe lane and brook reside we counted our blessings far and wide in yonder pelhams house we stopped and stared at local farm and village green and carnival village queen
at bridge of bricks built by prison o war labour we sat and read of pirate fables eleventh century church and revolving tomb underground tunnels with hidden rooms here werin bride and grooms took their oaths fore honeymoon
in kinson parish which took road to poole we saw the pottery and sea view the alder hills and the newtown where nelson lost his leg for half a crown and brian cruthcher was speedway champ and freddie mills visited gypsy camps
in kinson parish when i was a lad the gypsy families were many and wise the kings the crutchers the whites and castles too and cousin jean was queen of poole
stainers was a cobbler and still is today stanleys were fighters and rogers made bricks sankey ward cut clay and phillips cut a ditch and all the gypsies had a pitch bill knott sold laces up on hill long before he built his caravan empire which is still there too
in kinson parish the sanatorium was at alderney lady wimbornes bridge spanned ringwood road and barefoot children in the cold caught pennies thrown by a young king tossed from carriages of gold all this was in days of old before the drug house was in broom road.
springtime in poole
Cockerels a crowing and kids are at play lambs in the fields its a Brahms holidays lovers out walking and birds they do sing sun is a shining at first day of spring there's hares in the meadows and cows in the corn there's music and laughter its good to be born
there's daisies and clover and rabbits a run whole lot of blossom and spring has begun the seas on the shoreline lapping today there's sands near the oceans and boats in the bay the sailors are dancing with girls on their arms you can hear the music and sing all their songs
the hills of the purbecks they beckon to you there's treasures on islands and mermaids at Poole the seagulls they soar and the suns in full view the holiday makers make their way down to Poole there's hardy and blyton and old Robert Lou there's stories to tell them and crackerjack too them cockle are ripe and the fairs coming too there's so much to see in the olde town of Poole
where Augustus john spent many a day drawing the gypsies and the boats in the bay you can write of old Freddie the boxer in town the Lawrence Arabia who worked for the crown Gulliver's at Lilliput or kin son today you can see all his contraband its stacked in Poole bay
the cockleshell heroes were filmed across the way tenkos at wool and its spring holiday there's monkey world theme park and canford cliffs too the millionaires paradise they come here to Poole the yanks live at sandbanks john Lennon did too Brian cruthcher was speedway king and i was a fool.
SUMMERS DAY IN WAREHAM
on wareham bridge one summers day the lads were gathered for water play the river it was deep and wide with grassy banks on other redcliffes side
the boats were few and the swans were proud and the local fair drew many a crowd
the lady st Marys bells did chime and old granary was selling wine the vicar he was drunk like newt and the Bobby's bell went toot toot toot
the farmers gathered on the quay and heather sat alongsides me on stoborough green the lassies danced and Ned and Mel had their romance
the sandpit's band played many a fine tune and we stood up late till twas full moon.
THE CUCKOO
Today they'll let out the cuckoo from a field in stoborough village green he will then go a wandering build no nest or make no friendship just annoy us on his way just say cuckoo cuckoo first day of springs today
shes a cheerful little chappie though she lays in others nests she lays his eggs there like there the very best takes up all the leg room then eats up all their grub then when he wants more room kicks em out the tub
hes coming soon to your way you can hear him if you try hes fat and very lazy just says cuckoo cuckoo as he flys swiftly by.
WAREHAM PASTIMES
When coach and horses rode through wareham town the lady bankes was for the crown the corfe castle it stood on yonder hill whilst stoborough village was just a mile from the old mad millers mill the high walls of green that circled the town then all the farmers gathered around
in east street market stalls and sells the country yokels drank of the ales from wareham quay the ship it sailed with gold and bullion tea and whales the samways thatch at bestwall stood where young girls dreamt of motherhood the river frome and redcliffe ridge where robbers strode and varmints hid
where zunner boys did stones and skim the local volks told tales of these happenings the road to swanage was fast and free where visitors dropped in for tea
nearby at poole the brownsea boys the pirate Gulliver once did employ at kinson village and durdle door the round heads of Cromwell once did explore
though wareham streets still stands today nearby the barns of thatchy hay where corn market stalls did sell their wares whilst the pretty gals just stood and stared.
CERNE ABBAS GIANT
Their cleaning up Cerne Abbas the writings on the wall they re cutting back the grass so folks can see him all
hes there in all his glory for all the world to see another seventh wonder not far from the sea
they say hes got the power to fertile all the dames hes rich in height and beauty though his manhood's rearranged
hes the giant on the hillside you can see him every day his figure is upstanding drawn in chalk and clay
they say hes 16Th century or could been there before hes a legend in his time with his manhood set for sure
his fable is well rounded his ardor wise and true hes an olde folk tradition high up neath the blue
the ladies come to see him to sit upon his throne they say he will fertilate them before they hurry home
hes a giant on the hillside they clean him every day you can see him in the books of old just across from the bay.
CHARMINSTERS LOSS
Rode through charmister that cosmopolitan refrain i passed its cafes and its book stores on the wane i saw its cyber cafe and its bistro walls i stumbled through its alleyways and felt its sad remorse
charminster where students haunt the streets of cars and bikes where shadows hide the poverty of sad eyed gals and dyke's charminster where cemetery hides the loss of war whe shops and fruit parade the streets of the sad eyed daffodils
charminster for banking with student loans and loss where tossers walk the streets at night and monies at a loss where noise and bustle haunt my head and inner sanctuary charminster where church and dime are ranked in majesty
charmister where bedsit land is stacked three storeys high where Indian and Chinese meet with granmas apple pie charminster the squalor aside the wealth and shame where car sale ranks and taxis meet to ride homeward again
charminster where trees are hid behind the streets of loss where students walk with tourists bored and ladies taunt their worth the lights at night are calling me with smells of aromatic lust charmister home of the sad and housing land and trusts.
MONKEYS TRIP
i once went to the monkey house On top of up on hill i took along a dozen eggs with yokes all set to kill
we travelled on the rossmore flyer up and down those hills through alder road and monkeys hump you could hear those jingly tills
the weather it was wet and cold with puddles for to splash the yokels all spoke durzet twang the chattering did last
the gypsy kids were chavys then there were sherwoods all in line i thought i saw the regal flicks had a neat woodbine.
LUNDEGO WALKS
I took a trip to lundego were gypsies camped in rain and snow on egdon heath by wareham moors where heather stretched in gypsy Roma lore
the Carey walks with rhodey dens with trees so tall and song of wrens where streams were rich in woodlands lore there as a boy i saw it all
the Sanford dells and stoborough green where folks all danced on Halloween the roadside vardos stranded there with gypsy rose and heather fair
the moreton tracks and worgret heath where as kids we learned to cut our teeth the potato field of spiller jack with sacks of spuds upon our backs
where fishes jumped and eels did slide through rivers rich and mills that roared with waters rich and wheat not spoiled where granary walls were hard and mean with views and walks to redcliffes beauty scenes
the corn exchange beneath the clock far from the brambles and stingers docks where urchin children once there played upon the heaths of yesterdays.
ganders go a walking
six ganders went missing from the mannings farm one day they had all had enough they had all decided to run away
old granfer he looked and he asked grandson ray have you seen the ganders anywheres today
they looked in the cow shed they looked on the canford heath they looked in the copper house they looked in the meadows they wernt with the sheep
they looked in the allotments they looked in the pigs stys they looked in the brickyard the gravel pits too and asked folks going by have you seen the ganders anywhere in poole
the ganders had scarpered couldnt be found just then the dorset echo boy brought the daily papers around they were there on the front page six ganders been found their picture so bold headlines -six ganders go a walking along wallisdown road
theyd stopped all the traffic they caused a great din their hissing n squawking twas a terrible sin
we went to the cop shop to take them back home those naughty six ganders that went on the roam.
long time ago in kinson
long time ago in kinson village they put them in the stocks on kinson green long time again when they danced around the may queen they walked the cows to market along the ringwood road popped into the bear cross to rest their weary load
in the shoulder of mutton they took the funeral crew twas a stretch to st andrews church from the port of poole gulliver resided in the great pelhams house he was a smuggler of tea you see in cuckoo woods the bluebells did grow wild and free there were cuckoos in the meadows then in our early history
there were lodges across the wild terrain over to lodge hills canford magna manor the stour ran its course with the meadow sweet flowers we made daisy chains to pass away the hours
natural water springs sprang up across the downs rabbits at wallisdown to alderney the gypsies collected heather sprigs to sale on streets at poole we collected our nanny goat from the bogs of waterloo
the blossoms were sweet they decked the boughs an folks talked like thee and thou cows and ganders walked the gravel and sandy tracks an nobby watton wore a sack upon his back
past history of kinson village folk which stretched from the village to near the antelope the snake pub was a favourite in ol newtown young nelson lost his leg for sake of a crown.
the nanny goats ride home
when i was a small kid on the mannings heath we went with granfer for to buy a goat to keep we walked across the magna track till we came at night to a little rosey shack down a winding country track
the lady there had animals all inside her home pigs and horses dogs and drakes she said il be with you there half a shake
she reapeared with nanny goat on a metal chain said nanny is her name shes a real good milker though can be a pain
we took nanny home across the boggy heath through waterloo in the distance we could see the lights of poole quay we had five dogs in tow granfer and uncles two
we caught a double decker bus at old wareham road went upstairs with goat on chain and dogs of five oh how that nanny loved her ride
those days have long gone now but i remember still no8 bus ride from up on hill the nanny goat and dogs in tow riding on the bus twas a right good show.
SEAVIEW DAYS
I took a trip to up on hill where one could see the view of Poole so still where pines grew tall and cones were rich where the banks where steep and the lizards squirmed in and out the ditch
the school bell rang in woods of green where children ran and lovers dreamed high up on top of constitution hill where the birds did soar and time stood still
i looked down to ole newtown lands where the co op and Wesleyan looked so grand where all SIDS transport lorries stood in line you could hear the work sirens telling the times
the old water tower stood in sight with Phillips quarry's and heaths delights the coal man called and fish man too from ringwood road by stainer's shoes
where squirrel ls did chase and bird did sing then the cuckoo surprised us every spring there were orchards rich in sweet delight where zunners scrumped and Stanley's did fight
where bus stop stands next to the loos at the roundabout top of sea view.
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