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 the gypsy poet

Where as a kid i played

I remember the quarry's and the little shaded nook
the meadows where we built our dens next to the little brook
the trees that soared up to the skies where birds hid and built their nests
the hidden place behind the church where no one ever looked

each summertime on warehams walls where lizards all did squirm
amongst the adder and the ferns where the shiny fat slow worms
all hid themselves from man and beast wherein the kids did play
close by the river frome and stour as if twer yesterday

the canford walks with sandy lanes and gorse bush spreading free
where gypsy man and gypsy tan mixed so heavenly
the hills and dips where robbers hid and cowboys played at dawn
where robins sang and everyone was happy in their place

i remember it like yesterday as johnny onion came to call
with bicycles laden rich with giant dangling onion balls
the streets were narrow and the hedges graced the fields
where sparrows chirped each day at dawn and flew off window sills

the lights were dim and green so blessed with ironmongery rich
whilst sailors sailed from old Poole quay and gals they took a hitch
the rabbits ran across the downs and guns were fired at dawn
whilst farmers chased the foxes and the daisies graced the lawns

i remember summers long and winter snow was thick
we hid upon the bracken then close by the liitle ditch
our dens were neat and tidy with straw and mattress thick
we ran the hills and downs of land that man took and sold off for rich

i recall the ins and outs the little shop nearby
where sherbet dibs were squandered for some gals pleasant eye
the running brooks and meadows sweet with rhododendrons nearby
it vanished in a moment as all the years went bye

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