as a child i did play in the gorse and the Brier
i lit up the heath with a match made a fire
the fire engines came from Poole town that day
some came from ferndown and a longs way away
oh i collected the coney's from top of lodge hills
with sacks and my go cart of rusty of wheels
i chased on the heath the Rabbits and hares
before i went in the nights to visit Poole fair
i knew all the gypsies that ran on the sands
with lizards and adders and their diddy coy bands
there was birdsong and laughter and fern that went out to Poole
where the bog stretched across to meet Waterloo
the gypsy queen told me that if i was real good
she would tell me my fortune with the clans brotherhood
i was raised on the Manning's where the goldfinch were in tune
where the gaffer was rogers and the sun shone each noon
though the pathways have gone now and its industrial land
where the tower park stretches with houses so grand
though i can still hear the warblers as they sing in the briar's
whilst the pony's are staked out on the grasslands a while
gone are the travelers and the noble lord guest
with the house and the lodge where the Freemasons met
only our memories all haunt us today
as we ponder and gaze at the hills far away