Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud;
Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.

Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;
For man is man and master of his fate.

Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.

In olden days there lived a wife
Whose noble husband courted strife
He loved her little - just at night -
This knightly treatment wasn’t right.

He found her in the woodland wild
And took her for a wayward child
Making her his own for pity’s sake
While long regretting his mistake

Belittling her at every chance
Their love was lacking in romance
And when they came to Arthur’s court
He served her up in rags for sport.

But Queen Guinevere took pity
And dressed her in her finery
At which the husband fell for her
And took his way without deter.

At last grown slothful in his lust
He betrayed his knightly trust
And the lads of the Round Table
Questioned whether he was able

To sally forth on jousts or quests
Or polish up his chainmail vests -
And what is more said they made good
On any wants of knightlyhood.

At which he rode away with umbrage
Treating her as wayward baggage
Although he took her nonetheless
To keep the score on his contests.

He ordered her to ride ahead
And keep her tongue inside her head:
While he sought out each noble fight
She found a camp and cooked at night

With trolls and bandits on the way
She saw them first but could not say:
Distracting them she made them blink
And looking back gave knight-ward wink

But when the champion won the day
He sent her forward down the way
Driving chargers decked with *****
No words of thanks in line of duty.

Til in the forest depths a maiden cried
Beset by fire and to some ******* tied
A morsel for a dragon roast or fried
The fiery beasties’ shawarma undenied.

Then Enid much beguiled the monstrous worm
And calmed its embers with her nubile form -
While Geraint freed the nymphet from the stake
She shared her story with the horned snake.

At length she found her knight had upped and left
Leaving her beset, bamboozled and bereft
But then the dragon taken by her grief
Gave her the gold that stuck between its teeth.

So, she took the stolen armour that she held
And girded up with lance and sword in belt
Giving eager chase to nymph and errant knight
To teach him his behaviour wasn’t right.

She came upon her hubby in a glen
Enticing Elyse to a bowered den
He had fancied her since way back when -
He cut her bonds but tied them back again.

Then much in wrath our mounted maiden rode
Resplendent in her anger, brave and bold
And brought to joust Geraint the Oversold
But he took flight and fled the combat cold.

And Elyse was overcome with gratitude
For this gentlest of stranger’s hastilude
That he should save her from calamity
And never once assail her chastity.

‘Young Sir, my love is yours as you desire
I am a princess and my lands are yours
Come live with me and be my noble squire
And I will grant you what you may require’.

At which the champion laid her helm aside
And tossed the curls she could no longer hide:
‘I am no knight young beauteous maid
But just a woman that misfortune made’.

When Elyse saw such woe and courtly care
She loved the girl who stood so sadly there:
‘It matters not my lover and my life
You are my choice and I your loving wife’.

And then at last they came to rest at Camelot
Where Queen Guinevere reserved them a spot
At her table (which was like Arts’ non-square),
Where all were welcome to partake and share.

And they grew old in honour and renown
With songs of courtly love that still resound
For they had found their holy loving grail -
That gentlest of knights and her beloved girl.

And last was heard of Enid’s ex-Geraint
He was the fearsome dragon’s catamite -
And labour as he might to stir its blood
The slightest recognition was withstood.

(Geraint & Michael)

Decency is here;
And if there,
Then everywhere.
Here, it sang
To relieve the distressed,
Reduce her dread:
Are you alright?
Asked the lads.
A three note Wales song,
Whose symphonic cadence
Moved my world
Three thousand miles away.

There is indecency here;
And if here, then everywhere.
But here we will rebuke and retune.
And if here,
Then everywhere.

Are you alright?
I am not three thousand miles away.
I am beside you,
With an ear for lyrics.

Let's listen for Swansea's Song,
Here, there, everywhere.

we have localised in that i am near
the estuary and the water flows up
with the tide and down at otherness

floods with the rains
over the fields so geraint moves
the sheep accordingly. one year

it all came suddenly and no one
prepared and lots were lost down to
the sea, cattle too and some sheds
and garden ornaments

the bridge came loose from the next
village , broken came down to jam
on penmaenpool toll

presently the worst of it seems to
be south wales and shropshire with
homes all under

water gets everwhere

today snow is forecast and while
prepared we come unprepared
and the roads over the mountains
gets icy
so some of us stay home

i am undecided this morning

at this age i feel it is my choice
and am not bothered on appearing
flaky

joan often appears even in hair cuts
yet always alive and still hopeful

i already have the star for bravery