Young Americans, all volunteers
Sampling English women and English beer
Over sexed, over paid and over here

In the scrubby bit next to Sally's house there used to stand another cottage. If you scrape away some soil you can find floor bricks. A german fighter tailed some bombers back, shot one down as it made its final landing approach.It crashed short, demolishing the cottage. When Sally first moved in there were bits of metal laying around and dials hanging in the trees. An old boy turned up one day, a surviving crew member. They gave him some bits of his old plane to take home.

On planes with names like
Frivolous Sal, Dauntless Dotty
Million $ Baby, Memphis Belle

Sylvia was a child during the war.They saw a german fighter shot down, the pilot managed to open his chute. He walked up to their house, knocked on the door and gave himself up. Sylvia's dad marched him down to the Police Station.

Braving the freezing hostile skies
Thousands and thousands of you guys
How can we thank you
After you've died?

Next to Diane's house, hidden in the trees are the remains of nissen huts built as accommodation for the airmen. Not much left after 70 years, a few concrete block walls. Now and again she used to see some misty-eyed old guy gazing into the trees.

Long after you're gone
The land remembers
Bears the scars
Of those few years of turmoil

David is a gardener in our village, nice guy, should have retired by now. Don't think his father ever kept in touch.

Concealed amid the Summer green
As stars await their turn to shine
The thrush sings thrice his song unseen
And we would like to hold back time

As stars await their turn to shine
We want his song to never stop
And we would like to hold back time
As another cork we pop

We want his song to never stop
We hope for shooting stars up high
As another cork we pop
Watch nature's fireworks in the sky

We hope for shooting stars up high
The thrush sings thrice his song unseen
Watch nature's fireworks in the sky
Concealed amid the Summer green

A poem with an awkward rhyme
Is like a bell, with an off-key chime
The craftsmanship has gone all wrong
Like a perfume, with a hint of pong
Of course our poems don't have to rhyme
But I like it better

Grandma, Lucy gave birth she informed us,
and wants us all to see.

Lucy gave birth to a tortoise,
and it ran away to sea?

No Grandma, Lucy gave birth to an infant,
and she wants us all to see.

Lucy gave birth to an elephant,
today at half past three?
How did she do that?

No Grandma, Lucy has had a little one,
she's ecstatic and wants us to see.

Lucy, plastic surgery?
I'm not surprised if she gave birth to an elephant.
Shall we visit her?

Yes Grandma, what a good idea.
Shall we find your hearing aid?

What do you want a ***** for dear?

My body's nothing special, as far as I can see
My mind, though verging on the tiny
Is good enough for me

I don't ask much from anyone
They don't ask much from me
That way I stay in touch
With my inner chimpanzee

I come on me bike tonight,
Blast bor,
That wind were agin me the whole blinkin way
I wholey hoop that change afore I goo hoom agin.

For the big occasion
She's lost a pound or two
Last minute jitters playing out
Something borrowed, something blue

Posies for the bridesmaids
Flower in her hair
The thought of all those people
Gets her feeling scared

Roller waiting, protocol demands
Be ten minutes late
Line up for some memories
By the old lych gate

Holding back tears of joy
She glides the aisle in a daze
Nervous smiles exchanged
As the ***** plays

A moment's pause, new shoe shuffle
Children struggle to behave
Baby words da da da
Echo down the nave

No impediments are known
As far as we can see
No one shouts out from behind
Yeah, it should have been me!

In the nearby meadow
The big marquee awaits
Congregation filters back
Through the old lych gate

The groom pays sincerest thanks
To everyone he should
The best man airs embarrassments
As we knew he would

The band strikes up, as they dance
The car is 'modified'
Lipstick on the window
Cans and balloons are tied

It's not a worn out cliche
As the night winds down they realise
They really have just lived through
The best day of their lives

An apple a day keeps the doctor away
A peach a day makes the eyeball stray
A lovely pair makes them stop and stare
Let's go home, I'm getting bored
With looking at stuff I can't afford

Distraught the vicar wore a frown-
The churchyard wall had fallen down

Well he could devoutly pray
But not a single brick could lay

Fred said don't you worry, not at all-
We don't need a churchyard wall

Think about it now, he grinned
Those within can't get out,
And those without don't want in

He picks them up at random
Takes them out
Becomes engrossed in one
Then the next

Finished with them
He dumps them back
Where he found them
A little worse for wear

We left behind the growing oaks, the contorted willow
with its weeping friend, and the chestnut which
protects us from the western wind.

The christmas tree, garden plonked some thirty years ago,
soon to chop and chimney, and its holly neighbour,
freed at last from greedy strangling ivy.

The white-barked birch, the leaning cluster pine, the maturing
walnut and arching alders, the trio of young scots pines,
rescued from loop moth caterpillars just in time.

The regiment of leylandii along the northern border all in a line
the laurel hedge, the little holm oak, the redwood brought
home in luggage as a burl now spearing to the sky.

The shy biloba, new, unsure, not yet deciding if it dare.
The host of yellow plums, which bid to sucker  
everywhere.

The rowan in a ***, bark nibbled by a bunnie, still waiting
for a plot.  

The scruffy greengage, planted for its scrumptious fare,
the bramley sapling and the conference pear plucked
from the bargain bin last year.

We left them all behind, just for a night, with
a special mission on our minds. We
traveled south then west to a band
of dedicated people in a special
place we had to find.
He was there.

He's with us now, and quite relaxed.
We're on our way to take him back,
to live with us as a life-long friend,
and make our lives
complete again.

No words of mine are good enough
I am happy you are free again

Mr Kipling grins
Satisfied he did the right thing
Watching it go round and round
Certain his investment's sound
Sending him a trifle dizzy
While making exceedingly good
               electricity

Over the years I've had a few tries
But it's not been a great success
Enthusiastic but lacking technique
Finishing up a bit of a mess

Now Brendon's out there, plying his trade
He's only twenty three
Done it at college, passed his grades
So he can do it properly

Earning the money, stashing away
To buy a place of his own
Sure he'll get there, for as they say
Where there's a will there will be a way

His girl is local, she does people's hair
He says in her head there's nothing but air
Calls her the missus, she's only eighteen
Like an old married couple to some they seem

She rides with him in his scruffy old van
She'd prefer a comfortable car
She wants to leave home as soon as she can
So likes to see him work hard

As the day ticks away we mardle
He knows an old flame of mine
I say yes, I know her quite well
But not seen her now for some time...

The grand design moves forward
We've had a laugh and a chat
All paid up, thanks for your help
In a month or so he'll be back

On our bikes, day after day
Wheeling along the West Country Way
From Georgian Bath, that Jane Austen knew
To Glastonbury Tor, our challenge still new

Where are we now, is it this way or that?
Another cool stretch on a railway track
No one fell off, no one got hurt
Except now and then by a few cross words

And so over Exmoor, our longest day yet
It was football, not cider in our Somerset
Sea views and fresh air in Westward **!
We could have stayed longer but on we go

The hills are getting longer, tall hedges either side
Our legs are getting stronger now we've found our stride

The Eden project was on our route
So we had to stop and see
The scene was complete in a bio-dome
With David Attenborough filming for tv

Past holes in the ground where they dug the clay
Along old canals our journey panned out
Then over a beer at the end of the day
Out came the map for the mileage count

On through the ancient landscape we go
Past the odd castle or stately home
Past sheltered coves and beaches of sand
And on to the end  -Lands End-
Where we ran out of land

adoration we adore
criticism is deplored
reptilean eyes show no remorse
as silken smooth we subtley slither
closer now, invite a strike
or keep your distance
and your life

my teeth are hollow
so is my pen
venom flows
through both of them

A voice called me in from the garden
Coffee served for two
A voice called me in from the garden
I wished that voice could be you

A hand reached out in the darkness
To comfort and reassure
A hand reached out in the darkness
I wished that hand could be yours

In my dream you came to me
Your beautiful face I saw
You bade me rise to join you
And held me close as we danced round the floor

I felt your breath so warm on my cheek
As you whispered soft and sure
Live now for the living
Long for me no more

She said
You have to meet my friend Jen
I managed  "ok then"

So she did a barbecue
The only guests, me and you

Then she said
Tomorrow such a lot to do
Oh my heavy head
Talk among yourselves you two
I must go to bed

In the sky one shining star
Since that night we have come far

Dance with dragons to your hearts delight

Let lanterns shine and fireworks pop all through your darkest night

But if you care for your precious pandas plight

Don't buy tiger bones, rhino horn, ivory

Dead elephants are not a pretty sight

Really like the title
Poem's not worked out
If it does I promise
I'll give y'all a shout

In their discombobulated lives no matter what occurs
Mrs Um and Mr Er never quite concur
Continually at loggerheads
Sparring is their game
Life like this is normal now
Really it's a shame

Mrs Um for her hols wants to fly to Spain
Mr Er would prefer Turkey on the train

Mrs Um would like a dog, what he says to that
Is well now let me see, er, I think we need a cat

Where to put the cross this time
I don't know do you
Mrs Um votes red
Mr Er votes blue

So they end up doing nothing
As on nothing they agree
How they ever got together
Certainly beats me

.                          Light a joss stick for Chisato
                     Last seen in her best kimono
             She did what she was told to do
          Lined up in the playground
       Follow us across the bridge
     The grown-ups said.
   Bad move
The wave...

You always had to me a look exotic
Though none could be more native
Nestled in our landscape here
Since ice melt these ten thousand year

No enemies, or so we thought
Warming, useful, strong yet supple
Ubiquitous, vigorous, unstoppable
What could harm you now?

Windy days you sway and clash
Skeletal click-clack in the canopy
But now it seems the common Ash
Must suffer life's fragility

Against this invading menace
You find you have no defence
The assassin fungus
chalara fraxinea

For many years we have stood side by side
Unthinkable to contemplate your loss
If you should leave, bereft we would abide
And both of us must count the heavy cost
We have not always been the best of friends
I know you feel our union was forced
But all those ****** battles had to end
Since then do our achievements count for nought?
The whole is better than the sum of parts
Oh Caledonia, it's up to you
Is our historic partnership to last
Or do we have to bid a friend adieu
  By voting, not by battle you decide
  Remain, or by the claymore sever ties

She rolled her brand new electric car.
Well she was aiming to turn over a new leaf.

Hedges snowy white
East wind blows up trouser leg
Blackthorn winter's here

The little red car bobbing down the lane
Zipping thru the countryside
Waiting at the lights
Parking up between the lines
Is so much more than a little red car

With sympathetic hands she mends the wounded
Sends them on their way
Fights her corner with the managers in their pointy shoes
Lends a sympathetic ear
Saves lives

Makes her way back to the little red car
Thinks about her day, her family
Passing green hedges
Noticing the sunset
Looks forward to a cup of tea
As the little red car bobs back down the lane

Wags from the dog
Jen's home

I'm just a little apostrophe
So won't you please be nice to me
Use me when there's a letter missed out
Or when it's possession you're talking about
But when you write plurals just leave me out!

I feel the grief, I share the pain
Who would have thought that loss
Would wash up on our shores again

You slipped away
Did you say goodbye?
We'll miss you and remember
The times you made us laugh
And cry

I'll listen for your voice
Gently by my side
And know you only fell asleep
As we all do by and by

My name is Dave, I'm polite and clean
I left my home in Aberdeen
To be your host, that is my task
All for the fun and a season's pass

So under the table with your feet
If you like garlic you're in for a treat
You'll sit and dine with cheapo wine
The recipes will work out fine
With fancy puds you will be nourished
All presented with a flourish

At the end of the week goodbye my friends
Next week I do it all over again.

Up the lift, must not be late
Find the ski school, they won't wait
Hello, and what's your name?
Do you think we ski the same?

Bend ze knees, don't lean back
Snake down in line, like on a track
This is how you need to be
It's counter-intuitive you see.

Under the lift, in full view
Two people collide
Ouch! I'm glad that wasn't me or you.

Stop for lunch, sit in the sun
Do the moguls, have your fun
But do take care, take care a lot
If you fall you may not stop.

It's nearly over all too fast
This morning's lesson is the last
"So 'ave you learned somesing? asks Jean-Louis
We all reply "Oui merci".

Who will mend this broken chair
This useless one just standing there
Waiting for a drop of glue
Who will mend it, if not you?

Then take this lonesome broken heart
Can you fathom where to start
Who can make it beat anew
Who can mend it, if not you?

Fed up with you now
Silly old cow
Stuck it this long
No idea how
All the photos, in the bin
In every one you're ugly as sin
That voice all the time
A shrieking whine
Annoy someone else
You're no longer mine
I'm perfectly sure I won't miss you a bit
You ghastly wizened  gnarly old ***
With your drab grubby clothes
And concordian nose
Your pointy hat and stinky old cat
As if there could ever be another
I do believe you've become your mother
With your stupid concoctions and ridiculous spells
You really should be thrown down the well
Can't wait till you're gone, along with your pong
Your shriveled-up bits and ridiculous stick
You really are a hopeless old fool
You belong on a ducking stool
So before you incur any more of my wrath
Bugg off, good riddance you scabby old goth

We fixed your heart, it's all spare parts
Your liver ugh, we threw away
This one's new, the one we grew
It's going in today

Those wobbly wonky worn-out knees
Let's consign them to the past
With these bionic ones you'll see
You'll run twice as fast

Need new eyes? It's no surprise
We have all you need and more
Take your colour and your size
Down to our new store

Your genome's on our database
There's nothing we can't do
So come on down, no time to waste
It's everlasting life, guaranteed for you

We called our maths master *** happy Chappie,  Mr Chapman stank to high heaven like an ash tray and smoked like a chimney even while taking class.

We called the English teacher Jesus because he was young, bearded and wore a white suit. One of the lads flicked ink all down his back one day without him noticing as he walked up and down between the desks.

Another English teacher took it on himself to teach *** education. He advised us not to ******* the night before an exam. He doubled up as a career adviser and told everyone to go into banking or insurance.

The history master liked to nod off in lessons when he was supposed to be teaching us and we had to stay completely silent. If anyone made a noise he would yell at us, and he would sometimes hit us with a tennis shoe with a golf ball jammed in it.  He wrote Stoke City for the cup in chalk mirror writing on the sole so that it would come out on our backsides when he whacked us.

The first headmaster was nice, we liked him, he was human. But then *** took over. He tightened up the rules about school uniform, no coloured shirts, things like that, but wore luminous green socks himself, the silly *******. He gave me the slipper for sciving off an afternoon once, I hated him. I think if I'd had a gun I might have shot him.  Someone said they think he's dead now, and I thought good, I hope he died in agony ha ha.

Then there was Mr Eaton, another English master. He was one of those truly inspiring teachers whose enthusiasm for his subject was infectious.
On the day he introduced us to Chaucer's  'The Prologue '  he gave us the text and proceeded to recite from memory the whole thing.  I never forgot that.  

It was a mixed experience, Grammar School in the 1970's.

He wanted to see his friend
Asked mum for a lift
She said no

He did something wrong
Not a big sin
As far as sins go

Just walking in the road
On the wrong side
In the dark

His neighbour smacked him
With a wing mirror

Bread
Milk
Toothpaste
Flowers for the grave

You learn a lot in a place like this
Start top right
Then ride your green bike
          red yellow green black
And the white lead goes in the middle
You learn what an angiogram feels like
And what it's like to have a broken heart

On Chicago streets every night
Young lives are sacrificed
Don't turn your back
It's *** for tat
They shoot without thinking twice

Flickering fires, dim candlelight
Barely pierce the chill Winter night
In a world of toil with no hope of change
Life is a trial down Strugglers Lane

Endless worry is their lot
The only rest is when they drop
Nothing but hardship mingled with pain
That's what's on offer down Strugglers Lane

No escape, nowhere to go
Best do a deal with the devil you know
Nothing comes easy, it's always the same
That's how it is down Strugglers Lane

If you find yourself anywhere near
Heed my advice, stay well clear
Turn right around, go back again
Don't take the sign to Strugglers Lane

the elephant in the room....  
...you need to lose weight


unrealistically optimistic
focuses on goals
ignores pitfalls
stumbles
astonished
fails


we could argue
we could fight
but not tonight
josephine


Now how about
some Leonard Cohen
from memory
happy christmas

I hope you notice the expression in my song
Unlike that chiff-chaff over there
I try my best to be mellifluous when I sing
Not like him, not like him

Winter's gone and here we are hee hee
Hee hee
What shall we do now
Come on dear, I think you know
What we should be doing now
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

You're a brave bird and so beautiful
Just right for me,  now do a twirl
Do a twirl !
And I'm the only blackbird in the world
You need
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

You made it through the arduous
Ar-du-ous winter
Just like me, just like me
Brave bird!
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

My wife's a lovely brown
She's hiding in the hedge
I love to sing do you?
We built a nest we did, we did!
So don't forget to look the other way
If you should venture over here
It would be such a waste of time
To have to do it all again

This place belongs to me!
My wife is here
We're trying for a family
She laid some lovely eggs
Blue they are, she sits on them to keep them warm
But it's a secret, it's a secret
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

I hope you notice I try to vary my song
Mix up and blend the notes so as not to bore
And if it sounds like I'm trying to tell you something
Ex-plain something
That's because I truly am

I try to sound interesting
When I sing
Not like him
Mell-if-lu-os-ity is my favourite word
I made it up
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

Here comes weirdy beard again
Bright red cheeks, bright red hat
** ** ** and all of that
Riding on his sleigh

I'll ignore him for a bit
It's only one more day
Just don't make a thing of it
And he'll go away

But now the fever's getting strong
Resist as try I might
With jingle bells I hum along
That's it, I've lost the fight

From time to time I need a little help at work, casual labour. Someone said Bugg was a hard worker, you'll find him in the Crown. Sure enough he was there, yes he'd be pleased to help, starting the next day. Bugg used to live in a house, but bought a painted gypsy wagon, horse and all to live an itinerant life. He kept moving on, from one village common to another. I collected him at first, and sure enough he worked well. He said he once met Rod Stuart in a bar and I had no reason to disbelieve him, still don't.
  He started using a motorbike to get to work. His time-keeping was, well, non-existent. He came out with excuses like there was a police car cruising nearby, so he had to stay put as his bike was not taxed or insured. So we had a little conversation about that, and I thought I had convinced him it would be worthwhile getting it legal. He concluded the discussion by saying that well, the police don't stop bikes much anyway.
  One day he showed up at about eleven. Later on I casually asked if there had been a reason for his late arrival. His disarming reply was a simple 'no, not really'.  A nice enough fella, but I was beginning to get the measure of him.
  Instead of being paid at the end of the week, Bugg wanted his money daily. I realised he was spending each day's money in the pub every night. I was still glad of the help though.
  When the work ran out he moved his wagon a few miles to another common, where he had work helping with a barn conversion. Ideal for him, a village with a common, work and a pub.
  One very early morning someone on their way to work saw his wagon engulfed in flames. He was in it, burnt to a crisp. When I heard about it I was shocked, but I can't say I was surprised.
  Poor old Bugg, hopeless old Bugg, rest in peace mate.

Her tummy was swollen
This could mean
A future King
Or future Queen
A gift of life
A baby's breath

Instead it was seed
From the angel of death

I met a man with a bean moustache
All I could think of saying was Gosh!
You have got a bean moustache
Then he grew a green bean beard
Which everyone thought was very weird
But can you guess, he didn't stop there
Next he grew asparagus hair;
With compost in his cauliflower ears
He grew potatoes for years and years;
Out of his pockets sprouted leaves
And strawberry plants grew in his sleeves
Then much to even his surprise
His brain turned to cabbage,
Which sadly led to his rapid demise

He bought his house at an average price
And lives there with his average wife
In his average car with average miles
He ferries around his average child

He'll be the first to admit
His labrador is average thick
In an average job he's kind of stuck
He used to smoke and then he gave up

His average cat has an average tail
Through his door flies average mail
Occasionally he does aspire
To something grander, something higher

But average suits him quite alright
In fact it's really rather nice