meadows (Remove filter)
Over the Hills and Far Away
One man went to mow his meadow
But when he got there he found
A machine had been and cut it clean
So instead of scything he sat down
And sighed for rabbit pie
Made from conies caught in the hedgerows
Hedgerows as old as the old ways
Which wend over hills and dales
Where little boy blue asleep in the hay
Was dreaming of metal monsters
That ate up little boys ...
Saturday 29th June 2019 2:20 pm
The Child I Used to Be
Like the child I used to be
In a timeframe, that hadn’t altered.
Monday 19th July 2010 5:52 pm
Recent Comments
Tom Doolan on Honey Be My Valentine
1 hour ago
Flyntland on The truth of being settled
3 hours ago
TOM MERTON on Momentarily face to face with Kublai!
3 hours ago
Flyntland on The Sunshine Boys
4 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Percival
6 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Exposure
6 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on A lull in the fighting
6 hours ago
Holden Moncrieff on Ultimatum.
10 hours ago
Binte Afroz on Silent Call
11 hours ago
David RL Moore on A lull in the fighting
14 hours ago