(Just returned from another splendid holiday down there)

 

There’s few other places that I’d rather be

Than Milford, New Milton or Barton-on-Sea

On a warm sunny day as the wind gently lifts

The smell of the sea from the shore up the cliffs;

You might catch a glimpse of a buzzard or two

Spiralling thermally if no breezes blew,

Wheeling and mewing and quartering around

Then lifting in seconds a mile from the ground;

A chance to gaze out on the shimmering grey

Offsetting The Needles some distance away;

For while Mudeford Quay can be found to the right

To the left through the haze is the faint Isle of Wight;

And while you relax spotting boats on the sea

Take ten in a café with pots of fresh tea;

Blue rinsed old ladies, threatened and frail

Swiping at wasps with today’s Daily Mail;

You’ll probably find you’re the youngest sat there

As older folk dream of their earlier years,

Of long summer days when the sun always shines

As Milford harks backwards to far simpler times;

There’s few other places that I’d rather be