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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 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 ofttimes 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 Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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