hay (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
Recent Comments
Stephen Gospage on The Eternal Flame
23 minutes ago
Stephen Gospage on Kim PhĂșc The Napalm Girl
39 minutes ago
Stephen Gospage on Enhancings
1 hour ago
Stephen Gospage on A Shred of Life
1 hour ago
Manish Singh Rajput on Amnesia
3 hours ago
rob1967able on Colony 2B
3 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on Enhancings
9 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on Cinematic Dream
9 hours ago
Stephen Atkinson on The Fields of Avalon (pt 2 & 3)
10 hours ago
keith jeffries on Levelling Up - the undeserving poor
10 hours ago