POETRY  composed by ray wills

Poetry composed By The Dorset Poet  Ray Wills.

I am also known as The Gypsy Poet and The Durzet Baird.

In the following page I am pleased to present a liitle of my own work .

  For an in depth look at my range of poetry you can visit one of my poetry pages on this site.

See my CONTENTS list of all my pages to the left.

BLOODY WAR

BLOODY WAR

they hand out the bibles

before they go to war

they ascribe the salvation

then kill of all the poor

they recite the scriptures

say God is on our side

then they drop the bomb again

they say God talks to them

and not unto the jew

they sat God is with them

and not with Allah too

they spin the wheel of destiny

send soldiers off to war

they pray in church together

ascibe the battles won

they say God be with you

my appointed sons

they wave the flag of freedom

then deny men of their rights

then they pray together through the long long nights

they march for justice and democracy

they say God willing

all men will be free

they plan the wars of justice

then kill three million more

then the call it freedom

but its just a bloody war

modern day myths

its all global warming they'll have us believe

guess you'll get swine flu each time you sneeze

 its snowing in Georgia and Washington too

there's poppies in afghans principalities too

they took us for suckers and told us a lie

so they could build new cars and get us to buy

they offered us monies to trade in our old

then they said global warming but its still dam cold

pharmaceutical companies have sure made big bucks

 they sold us the vaccines and then said good luck

whilst babies are dying in haitis shores

they'll send in the troops that's what there for

its a crazy predicament with spins and new lies

they sale us the FEAR then just wait for cries

 the terrorist plots are the reason to fear

so they scan us all daily and the headlines all cheer

the history books tell it its there for to see

how the Indians died for your liberty

how cultures were shattered when freedoms set free

the capitalists plans and the blind men cant see 

The back streets of Poole

The squires lived in the back streets of Poole

with no boots on their feet but had hearts that were true

 the lamplighter lady she lit up each morn

so bright and so early to wake you at dawn

 the streets there were narrow and the bread they all shared

 there were skipping of ropes and singing of bairnes

the docks they were rich there and the fishes were sweet

 with cockles and winkles and rags on their feet

the rag and bone man rode the streets every week

 with horse cart and shouting to all he did greet

there were neighbor's a plenty to help you in need

with cheerful rich chatter and words oh so sweet

 the noblemen passed there and rarely did gain

 access to the comforts of their little lanes

 there were sailors a courting and maids at your door

 kisses and promises and soldiers at war

 the streets then were cobbled though none did complain

 for the richness was theirs down those narrow lanes

 with families large and mothers to gain

with another babe wanting in another broods name

 the railways they came their from old Waterloo

with stories of gentlemen said how do you do

but the streets they were poor and the children they died

all for the sake of a rich mans wealth tide

SCHOOL DAY ANTHEMS

We sang those school day anthems

 those rich colonial tones

with market town and schoolboy zest

we were rich amongst the heath

 and wore our Sunday best

the bells did ring so loud and free

with St Marys choir and tones

 we walked the lanes of wareham then

 it seemed so long ago

 the school it had its prayer times

its school days race and pride

 with trophies on display then

the corridors were wide

there was once a farmyard pigsty

 with porkers and saddle back gained

with walks to wareham market

 stroll down old pound lane

the gals called around on Saturdays

 we played the walls to chase

 with touch and kiss and blarney talk

though folks still did know their place

the trees were rich in leaves then

 the hay was rich in tone

 whilst rabbits scurried on the downs

us lads took our ways home

though i kissed heather on the green

 gave chase to Mary Jane

we fought wars upon the verges then

built hideouts and great dens

the farmer samways daughter Caroline

 was sweet and her kisses twer so true

 though the cockerel's crowed each morning light

said boys how do you do

the walks to creech was awesome

with squirrel chase on the way

the peacocks were so handsome

 the gorse was rich with briar

the gypsies camped at londego

their vardos and campfires

the sun came up each morning

the cuckoo cooed at stobourough green

i was rich in dialect

and kissed Angela the BEST

for she was to be the new may queen

the walks each weekend to corfe

the village so old n quaint

with rustic castle on the hill

we kids did all frequent

we slid down the hill on cardboard

rode the Ferris wheel

we danced amongst the bracken lads

 lizards for to steal

the lanes were winding then

 and the bridge did span the stream

 we counted all our blessings

then we squandered all our dreams

WHAT IF

What if all were told were but nonesense

 to set a trap for fools

what if science was wrong all along

and wisdom but a ruse

what if God was in his heaven

the angels and the saints

were gathered there in such a celestral place

 what if the earth was full of nature

 global warming was a lie

what if the terrorists were friends

what if all were told were lies

what if the world was one big family

called the human race

no colour creed or strangers

no turn of the toss win or lose your face

what if the towers were blown from inside

 the kelly doctors death was just a murder

by the powers to stop thruth from being blest

what if the wars were all dictated and freedom was a lie

 whilst screening at the airports and making afghans opium pies

what if fools like me were wise men

to talk such childish chat

would we be ignored as fools or sent out for to bat

 what if lennons words were thruth and dylan was not a myth

would you listen to the music or take anothers rift

what if poets words were cast in rheteroic full of trust

would you wander in the romance or chose to squander lust

what if men and old redeemers were settled in the sands

where time walks with justice free again where lovers all hold hands

PLAY

oh the exuberance of play

 the wanderlust of childhood upon a summers day

 the run to greet the morning the joys of day to be

the flowers in the orchards boughs

when love was on the leas

the carousel of merriment twixt the frolics fun

the wayward movements of the now

 when play times just begun

the sharing of the country walks

the pleasant country scenes

 the sweetness of the morning breeze

 when you did as you pleased

the merriment of laughter

the sharing of the now

 when childhood grasped the nettle

when farmers milked the cows

the apples and the leaves of green

the run to greet the day

 when nature was in its glory

 when children were at play 

Westbourne tales

Where churchill fell close to the chines

in westbournes bridge where folks drank wine

 with damaged frame and broken ribs

 he oftimes came to conker ridge

 his friendly aunt lived at canford lodge

her guestly name was born in sods

here vagrants walked the fields and rode the land

in caravans and jovial bawdy gypsy bands

 the viaducks and briges spanned

 with red brick walls built by irish hands

where labourer craftsmen and newtown lads

 blessed the soil and kissed the flesh neath bonnie rags

where noble lords and common crew

rode the docks at olde town poole

where squires did feast upon their gain

 whilst barefoot children ran the lanes

school days and more

There was a little tuck shop around the corner from branksome heath

with liqurice of skipping ropes and gaudy sweet false teeth

 i went to school at branksome heath when i was a small wee lad

i drew pictures of naked ladies then oh i was so very bad

we waved the flags on empire day played marbles on the ground

 picture pastcards we called flicks we listened to the band

 we often walked to school or rode the number eight

 we had those rucksacks on our backs parents waved us from our gates

we said our prayers there daily sang the schools own song

 we all had recreation and we all just got along

our teachers all were wise men we recited maths tables and weather then we knew our place and more

 we always did as we were told

 or wed all get what for

STAN COLLIER

Stan Collier worked on priddle farm

 when hours were long and men grow strong

in higher barnsleys woods and leas

where he milked the cows

 and took the milk for you and me

 that cottage close to wooded lanes

that twist and turned to wind yon frames

 where zunner boys did run the lanes

fishing and playing childhoods games

the dogs did bark and mice did hide

 the rivers twisted through delightfull countryside

where cars rare rode the country lanes

 where church bells rangs in time to horses manes

 here dogs gave chase in packs of ten

to hunt the fox to please squires men

 where priddles farm was rich in lore

where Stan Collier worked and planted all

here cocks did crow and boys did boast

 of girls they dchased and loved the most

where wimborne bridge did ride the stour

as a child i holidayed there for many an hour

 where maket town each thursday noon

we gathered to seek fun and gaze at silver spoons

where heifers sold and pigs did snort

where farmers sold and home did brought

their spoils of days not long ago

 when farmers put on a wondrous country show

FARMERS BOY

Yesterday I took a walk down winding tracks

Where birdsong greets the mornings realms

Where reeds and heathers do bestow

A pleasure garden all on show

I gazed on hills spread so green

Where lambs and seagulls paint the scene

Where clouds of cotton wool do show

 The joys of life all spead below

Across the heaths of rabbits runs

Where fox gave chase whilst farmers sons

Sang all their songs like folks in prayer

 and wallowed in the beauty there

 I spied the tractor oer the soil

The fields of grain across the moors

The lilac trees and nettles sweet

Where tramps and ladies trod their feet

The seas of spray where fish do dance

To sands of time and pebbles chance

To sailboats riding on the spray

Where the sun shines bright across the bay

The church tower clock doth chime the hour

 Their bells do ring across the stour

Whilst zunners run from school this day

Whilst lovers frolic in the hay

I spy the village pond and old water pump

the five barred gate where walkers humped their rucksacks

 and stout poles of fine regard

Just a stone throw away from farmers yard

Where the gander geese gave chase to mary jane

Whilst the dogs did bark and lords did monies gain

 Where stoned wall walks were set in sand

Where Hardy wrote and Barnes statue still doth stand

Where the market hawkers gave full guest

Whilst us zunners ran amongst the bests

Where todays pubs and cafes do imitate

Those histories of landed gentrys fates

 The walks I took that summers day

Across the purbecks right of way

Where travellers rest and shouldrs of muttons rich

In its histories lessons spread across the ditch

While warblers sang and fat lizards squirmed

The adders and the shiny slow worms

The master poet was lost in joy

When I was but a child and farmers boy.

NO BORDERS

I wanna live in a country with no name

no border's and crossings and each man speaks the same

where poor and rich are never known

and every man is another Mr Jones

I don't want to see another union flag

another road to glory with crosses steeped in sand

 where guns and idols are all the same

 i want to be free where victory and loss are one and the same

 i don't want to see the other mans lies

or hear the words of Truth twisted into souls of spies

 i want to live in a place where each man is the same

 and yet prosperity travels in an-others name

i can see you smiling and your look of shame

with no more wars and no other man to blame

 i can hear those reasons swept down through the times

 like a slow wind blowing and a children's jingly jangly rhyme

you say it wont ever happen you say lets not pretend

where all dreamers in this world of god and friends

where each mans raiment is an-others shield

and the light of peace is yet so unfulfilled

i want to live in a country where the good are you and me

 where seasons change and theres hope and truth and liberty

where continents and countries are no longer cast in shame

 where every mans my brother and every words not steeped in shame

 i wanna see the happiness of black and white

the hope and prosperity shared and the fruit so ripe

 no border country's to fight for fame

and no more wars bled in gods own name

ENGLISH JOURNEY

England sure does look beautiful today

 with lots of country scenes

horses in paddocks in the land of the queen

whizzing along at the speed of a king

homes of the lords and forests of green

looking at homelands with villages free

 land of the nobles free liberty

traveling to highlands where kings fought for crowns

sweet little hamlets and high rise new towns

 rivers and bridges with rambling rose

little thatched cottages and scenes so remote

wayside inns standing with willows and birch

oak trees and promises gifted cart horse

 seasides and holidays spread on the sands

rainfalls and sunshine sounds of steel bands

 Church bells that ring and clocks that still chime

winding tracks that still take you to heaven and back

 waterfalls ans rocky caves

 hillside castles making waves

trumpet majors and kids that play

 each and every Saturday

pillar boxes red and loud

 London buses and taxis proud

coach and horses fox hunts packs

with red and green on horse back

swiftly did the journey end

with cockney poet lets pretend 

MARBLE DAYS/Carey Wareham

I played marbles as a kid

upon the green where we kids lived

 we played those circles games and more

 just over from the village hall

the grass was green and the daisies grew

 we rolled that glass with gusto too

 with alleys and shiny spheres of glass

 we thought the day would always last

our friends and family all came to play

no PC world in those old days

our fun and laughter was roustabout

as we rolled those marbles in and out

 the sounds of clinking hit the air

 as we won with richness joy

or lost in pure despair

 with our ice cream faces and our red cheeks glow

 we rolled those marbles and let them go

the little green it still is there

close by the railway line and local fair

the Carey woods and warehams leas

where as small kids we scuffed our knees

gone are those days of revelry's

when marbles kept us from our teas

with alley bags and clinking glass

we rolled those marbles slow and fast

our aim was true and skilled with ease

 as we sat their on our knees

with scores and winning ways to share

we took our time and said our prayers

THE CLIPPYS

Once we had conductors on the buses

when the buses were on time

 no standing in the lines then

to pay your fare and mine

there was no need to worry

 about the teds and more

they turfed them off the buses

or gave them a real what

for the buses were on time then

 so swift and friendly too

we caught them at the station

 or on the roads from Poole

up and down the stairways

 ring that bell and yell

send picture postcards of the sands

 all those seaside smells

the views of Poole's big harbor

trips down sea view lanes

where the fir cones are a growing

 purbeck sites around the bend

           JUST THE TICKET

Insanity rides the mail train

heading for the coast

with his memories in the basement

 and his words lost in the moat

 somewheres in the distance

where lonesome lovers call

there's a singer singing loves songs

like a letter to st Paul

There's a lonesome whistle blowing

 through the wasted fields of time

 where the minstrel boy lays sleeping

 having drunk of too much wine

theirs a damsel in distress somewheres

 he could hear her in the night

 with her bosom flowing freely

and her dreams shut up real tight

the birds were flying southwards

headed for the coast

 he looked out his railways windows

out into the night

the stars they were a twinkling

and the moon was in full phrase n bright

there were couples there a swooning

and they gave him a swift wave

the music that he heard that night

 was lost in blues and jazz

there were people in the carriages

 and children being bad

he looked into his pocket

and took out a memory

he read the picture postcard

then ordered his last tea

the porter was a wise man

he saluted him and then

pretended not to know him

 but he knew him way back when

 one time in their childhood

they had swung upon a star

 with moonbeams bought in a fairground

 and brought home in a jar

the train it stopped at Zanzibar

 or was it Waterloo

the station master took his ticket

and said how do you do

PROTEST

Dont want to protest anymore

 about some war on foreign shores

dont need to harness any rhymes

just want to stand for cheer and those good times

dont want to go to war no more

just sit and ponder on these shores

where golden sands stretch out the miles

just want to stroll them for a while

dont want to reason nought but fame

crafted words and silly games

where poets verse stands free and bold

harness the weather hot or cold

dont want to fight a cause or ploy

just want to be like other boys

just wave the flag on foreign shores

killed in the battles for a lord

hand me that gun

grip me that sword

sing me that anthem

how absurd

A Star

He was a star in his own right

didnt need no competitive commercial itv

just let his words flow so all could read of his majesty

 his visions were of altruistic fame

and his stannzas flowed

every one n all came out the same

his innocence and trusted pride

 they were just a price he paid

for each young dude and pretty bride

down through the ranks of poetry fame

they crafted words and folks knew their names

some were romantic others crude

all dwelled in hope and poetic brood

the flowing rhymes and honest toil

they crafted dreams and turned the soil

of words that made men weep and pray

of young girls dreams and better days

the competitive world was not for them

their hands and minds a source of crafted pens

their heartbeats flowed with thruth and love

sprinkled stardust set in the richness of the heavens above

 I dont need to competitive test

to seek the flow of words or zest

dont need no exercises of manmade taste

just a poets heart

and there il allways find

my true poets resting place

WAREHAM LAD

As a lad i lived in wareham town

where streets were narrow and church bells chimed

 near the frome and piddles rhymes

 old cedric Hughes did ring the bells

at lady st Marys church congregations swelled

all in good time

i shared those sunday morning revelries

 neath Church's tower and willow trees

the village romeo was one legged joseph mick

he rode a motorbike and they sanctioned it

close by the village Stoborough had its green

where folks would gather from early spring till Halloween

the miller mad did haunt the walls

where grass grew tall with tales of roman lords

the tales were rich in history

 and poets words of majesty

the cockerel crowed on samways farm

to wake them up was their alarm

the lizards squirmed on the high grass walls

 where children played from morn to dawn

the trumpet major rode this way

 whilst hardy wrote and lambs did play

 the poet Barnes lived just few miles away

then Lawrence Shaw at clouds hill came to stay

the guns they fired from lulwoth bay

 you could hear their roar every day

from miles away

 the streets were busy in the spring

 with hawkers all out and marketting

nearby the garrison at bovy town

where carruthers managed the officers mess

for queen and crown

whilst elmes and samways told the yarns

days long past with blackbirds song

as a lad i grew up there tall and strong 

He

POETRY GROUPS

It was the groups first meeting

 their very first slam n blast

the cakes were on the table

the choc ones just did not last

There was laughter in the hallways

 fun was in the air

we couldnt find no tables

lots of empty chairs

the spirits kinda lifted when the compere he gave chase

with four and twenty jokers going to a wake

the blind man gave a curtsy with his own ball and chain

his wifey sat beside him theyd walked here in the rain

the poets gave renditionse lifetime stories all

with roses in the porchway romance at their call t

he ladies brought their knitting the men brought playboys too

there were many people laughing rolf played his diddley doo

 i glanced upon a wise man a seer all out to spin

one hand on the bible the other passing gin

 the prose it was delightfull the stanzas they were fun

one carried the audience to heavens gate

the other went on and on and on till late

there were readings like from thatcheray

poems from hardys pen

then i heard a wise man singing hed  rent his quill again

the master mathmatican and the band of motley crew

 with one hand on the rudder and the other waved at Poole

 SOLDIER BOYS

Their growing poppies on the hillsides Tubruck to Alamein

from the fields of Flanders freedoms to Afghans plains again

 their singing songs and all the anthems the notes are on the vine

 from the forces bloomin sweetheart all through the ranks of time

the madman shot his comrades the news is out today

their blowing all those pipes again their drinking hip hoorays

the news was on the tele the scent was in the air

 the death of true religion all the Truth laid bare

their pushing out the stories telling all their lies

their selling opium on the market to the young to make them wise

the medias got the answers the youth to go to war

 one hand on the trigger the other battle sore

their selling all the stories across the world wide web

 Christ has won the victory but the soldier boys lay dead

SCOUTS AT POOLE

 Ten Dorset boys from the bournes mouth and Poole

took a trip to brownsea with that first scouts crew

three half a crowns they paid each one

 to spend a time there and have some fun

Lord Baden Powell he took those local boys

to teach them scouting with all its joys

the skills of craft and camping too

held at brownsea isle just off of Poole

that first camps is now history

with generations of scouts at jamborees

the campfires were lit and the songs were sung

in those far off days when we were young

 its worldwide fame and girl guides too

were born at brown sea isle just off of Poole

with chants of boys and ventures blessed

they planted the seed you know the rest

WEYMOUTH SANDS

Us kids all went to weymouth to build castles in the sand

with our pockets full of shillings in days when life was grand

we took our sandwiches and honey wrapped up in paper towels

 we counted all our blessings then and waved at all the cows

the journey was delightful with pastures all the way

 sheep and ponies in the paddocks and what a holiday

the sun was out and shining the clouds were cotton wool

my brother brought his lizard pet and i brought my comics too

the town was full of people there were deck chairs by the sand

 you could smell the sea spray in the breeze and hear the big brass band

we saw the fairgrounds carousel and bought a currant bun

 there were lots of ice cream vendors there and a fat man on a drum

the sand was so inviting and the sea was warm and clean

there were tourists in the shops nearby it was a delightful scene

i saw the punch and Judy show set up there on the sands

there was lots of candy floss and pop with gals in summer gowns

 weymouth sure looked beautiful such a busy little town

there were open top buses flying by with children cheering

too my brother built a sand castle and my sister played the fool

the boats were sailing in the bay and the cliffs looked quite a sight

i was playing in the sea and the crabs of my toes they had a bite

ouch

CAROLINE HUGHES/Dorset Gypsypoet

Do you remember the Dorset Gypsy poet Queen

 with her words of love she set the scene

the caravans gathered on the old wareham bye pass

with their homes of freedom and their wheels on grass

the view of canford hills of lodge

 the windy tracks on the land of God

 she wrote the anthems and the folk trail ends

 where the dartford warbler thrilled around each bend

 they came to visit her the young and wise

with the dust of love within their eyes

she played and sung the words of rhyme

memories of another age another time

the Seegers came to bend their ears

the sixties vogue in the protest years

the traditions streteched and the words were wise

 they crafted melodies and turned the tide

the Dorset gypsy queen of poetry

 sat and talked amongst birch white trees

the guitars strummed and their voices thrilled

 amongst the campfires lit and the rolling wheels

the Manning's heath just a stone throw away

 where as a child i ran and played t

he music lived within their hearts

the gypsy song and the horse and carts

then the master artistes performed her songs

 the gypsy queen with lilt so strong

the heathers bend and the lizards squirmed

amongst the adders and fast slow worms

gone are the travelers who played that day

 amongst the gorse on the great highway

     DAWN BREAKS

In a twinkle of light through the passage of time

A dream came along that was sound and so fine

a hurricane roared through the streets of the pines

 whilst a child lay a sleeping in the land of divine

somewhere in shadows where lullabies lay

the pixies and fairies were learning to pray

the deer it was running through spruce of the day

whilst the shepherds were sleeping and their dreams went astray

cross my path now said the man of delights

whilst the gypsies were dancing twas a wonderful sight

the cross on the hillside was blessed with his grace

whilst the sinners of mankind turned away from disgrace

 the clock struck the hour when dawn spreads its light

 whilst the children of genesis whispered goodnight

the forests lay sacred and the hills cast their spell

but only the good were rejoicing the fells

all through the histories where men came to taunt

 the reasons for waRs were cast and well learnt

 the battles were won yet the victory's were lost

in the Truth of his words at the foot of the cross

 i remember the hymns said the wise man and more

like the words of the bible all twisted by whores

the cock crowed at dawn and the man he just lied

with a kiss on the cheek which we grew to despise

MY ENGLAND

Where bobbies walk the streets in twos

 and one can catch the train at Waterloo

to travel down to purbeck view and saunter on to visit Poole

in English hills and English downs

where Hardy wrote and Tess sat down

where Shakespeare wrote and Elliot too

where bacon wrote his bible free

and tolpuddle martyrs talked of liberty

 where Lawrence shaw wrote on clouds hill

brunel created bridges to span the sea

 whilst children played their games afor their tea

here church and manor house resides

along sides the sandy beaches and roaring seas n tides

 theres forests new and Sherwood too

even buffalo bill came to Poole

the east enders and coronation street

the kindest people yould want to meet

the brummy lad and Geordie crew

the brownsea island scouts at Poole

the rose of Kent and Liverpool

the Beatles and the Mersey too

 the trains of steam at swanage town

the malvern hills springs drink the water down

the buck house of queen and kings

 the palaces and busker's that sing

the swans and open country lanes

the dips and dales the sights n smells

the journey up to tunbridge wells

the fields of corn and wheat n rye

the village postman pass you by

the football lads and cricketers

the history and the lady Diane tears

the brooks and rivers the trains n boats

the island race

the mix of pace

st George the dragon and George Orwell

the houses of Parliament and Orson wells

the crowds the tourists and the cup of tea

the battle won the victory

DORSET STONE

Old London was built of purbeck stone

For Sir Christopher Wren was well in tone

with Westminster abbey and old Big Ben

they took those stones and carved them then

From purbecks tide with surfing foams

they cut those famous Portland stones

from purbecks hills and countryside

 made monuments to greet a bride

The work was hard and hours long

with only sweat and warblers song

with noble brows and knightly gaze

they shaped those stones to be amazed

now those stones stand so proud and tall

with royal hearts and in regales halls

though the purbeck hills still call to man

where seagulls nest above the sands 

POETRY COMPOSED JUST FOR YOU

If you would like me to compose a poem for a special occasion,birthday,anniversary,family occassion or a dedication to that special person in your life, please contact me at my CONTACT page  

Meanwhile heres just a few more of my poems to wet your appetite.

 Small Miracles

Sometimes small miracles come from the strangest places

like two strangers meeting and touching bases

sometimes it happens in a blink of an eye

sometimes its over fast afore life goes fleetingly bye

sometimes you'll see her in the strangest place

your eyes will meet and you'll be lost in space

sometimes the worldly cares will bring you down

 but then your spirit lifts when shes around

sometimes you wonder why it is that God gave grace

 to folks like you and me in this sweet place

here blossoms bloom and Lilllie's sweet

 dont tread on those daisies babe beneath your feet

sometimes it happens without a word expressed

some strangers greets you and your impressed

some friend to talk to cross the golden miles

some reason to welcome each spring day

you'll praise your life from day to day n smile

 the carousel goes on round n the wheels in spin

 you'll take this chance and your life begins

your born anew and your heart it soars

like starlit nights and fancy romantic balls

 the tangled webs we weave they will sustain

 through cherished moments though you'll win again

 two soul mate lovers in a world gone wrong

you'll take your chances together in the same old song

the rivers flow and the tide comes in

the sun doth shine and the wheels doth spin

   Poole       

A TREASURY OF DORSET

                              wool         coach and horses

There is a treasury of Dorset

where poets love to roam

streets of thatched cottages

and walks align the frome

 there is a coach and horses

 with a bear cross histories

 where hardy wrote his novels

 there for you and me

 there's a treasury awaits you

 with a castle on the hill

 where purbeck stones are crafted 

with the meadows sweet n still

 there's Barnes the master teacher

poet of the pen

 where bankes and rogers crafted

 those grand histories of men

 this treasury of Dorset

 awaits you every day

 where pastures spread in daisies

 and folks are making hay

 there's birdsongs of the warblers

with cannons fired at dawn

 where blyton wrote of noddy

 and walkers spread the ferns

you can walk across the egdon

 and smell the scented trees

wallow in the heathers

 of west moors country scenes

the spruce is growing tall today

and the trails are winding free

Gods still in his heaven there

 and there's comforts on the lea

smallest pub in world

Links to my poetry -sites

 for  The Gypsy Poet Poetry Site  

Lodge Hills      Sea Vew Hotel

Reg n Alice ROGERS DORSET ANCESTRY poetry site