With thoughts of old childhood birthday blossoms,
and crisp, clear fragrant summer mornings never to be forgotten
the gift of peace to a commitment untold
and the life and heart of the country unfold

from the birth of fawn to the parting of old bones
the lush of leaf or the solemn of stone
with the gush of stream and the call of bird
this country could entice the soul of any to turn

the sodden wet grass from a night of refresh
with the elegant  bluebells littered like trade stands across Marrakech
the love and flesh of a greater power once said
and the flavour and colour to be feasted once again

by the old man gamekeeper the luckiest man I've met