Washington's ancestral home in Dorset
The ancestors of George Washington resided at the Grange whilst high above the burrow lay sleeping so high overhead
At the foot of the purbecks where pigeons did nest where partridge and peacocks did dance to young maids
In the village of Creech where the brambles were deep near warehams proud country with grass walls so steep
Where the blossoms grew rich and the zunners did play not far from the harvests and the making of hay
The old house was built of rich purbeck stone with the crest of the family in a place they called home
Where the USA crest gave birth to the free where landed young gentry were rooted by sea few know its history and its fight for the free the cannons of Cromwell and the royalists pleas
Though its grounded in histories we've yet to recall that the greatest of America was rich in its lore
The call to the brave and the crest on the wall the family mottoes and the days that befall the village of Creech with its twists and its turns with its high burrow views so gifted and sworn.
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.
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.
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.
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.
CHARLIE WILLIAMS
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.
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.
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 firing 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.
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 along-sides 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.
Ganders go a walking
Six ganders went missing from the Manning's 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 weren't with the sheep
They looked in the allotments they looked in the pigs sty's 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 couldn't 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
They'd 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. |
My Dorset Poetry.
My poetry reading co/Bournemouth Echo
click pic
Talbot's two sisters
Where smugglers did haunt and poachers did prey from the heath-lands of canford to the shores of shell bay their boots they were worn and the children were poor with lessons not learned and their manners absurd to the core
The gentry were rich then and their houses were grand but the poor laboring men twere rest not assured the benevolent sisters took up the cause through the fine words of Owen and the cross of the lord
The village was crafted and the lines they were drawn with cottages fit for the weary and worn with stables and farmland so free to transcend with the community rich in its peoples and blend
The primroses grew on the footpaths its true with the church of st marks close by the boundaries of Bournemouth n Poole where the kinson estate had stretched from wimborne to Waterloo still rich in its folklore and the gypsies ole traveling crew
The Talbot community was true to the cause with our lords ten commandments and its decency laws though the poor men were rich in their community life with the strength of the hands and the skills of their knives
the school it was set in the woods of the land where there's heathlands for grazing still free to ole gypsy bands close by the poor commons of turfs new England's fame the sisters created a wealth amidst the stoned gravelled lanes
Where sweet lodges were plentiful and men knew their places where the squires were rich and all of the lawbreakers hid of their face in woodlands and heath-lands where rabbits ran free the story of Talbot is pure history
On the Wallis downs commons and in the rich lanes where folks grew their crops and the fox ran again the working men were free to gain the benefits of open land the gaffers were dedicated and the land was free where two sisters pledged their thrust in thee.
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.
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 hells 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 heather-ed hills and grassy walls listen to the thrush that calls
The surfing seas the silvery sands the poetic words of the durzet man.
Farmers 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 Joe.
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.
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 knobby 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.
Creech Days
We took a walk to Creech each year us kids from wareham town we wore our best clothes Sunday best our smiles and girls in gowns we took a stroll to creech burrow for picnic on the mount each Easter hot cross bun day we did this our numbers you could count
We climbed the hill to Dorset's scenes oh was a splendid site with views of rivers hills and downs with fields all Green and bright we talked and laughed and played those games that kids all like to do we could see across to puddle town and the power station at Poole
There were birds that sang upon the downs where grass grew tall and mean with walks around the mount to top to view those splendid scenes the rabbits scrambled o'er the copse and foxes chased and played we could hear the lady st Marys bells and the chaffinch on the trees
The days were long and sunny then with time to do just as you please there was hot cross buns with jam and pop which was sicking and so cool we tucked away our picnic there and looked across to Poole
The somerset downs were prime and the Hampshire forest moors we could see the sea and smell the gorse and loved the paddocked horse us kids we strolled home weary and full of fun and mirth
Across the stoborough heath and woods to warehamd homeward course those days were full of memories and laughter with true grit we talked and strolled that route each year where upon the burrow wed sit. |
| . Reminiscence's 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 thee.
|
text
|
|
| . |
| Visitor Counter: | |||||||
 |  |  | |  |  | ||