Hippy Days     
(Inspired by my teenage years as an art student!)

No trendy restaurants or bars,
No cabs or taxis, never cars!
A pair of thumbs would get you far
Back in those Hippy Days.

Designer Labels? In your dreams!
A bit of braiding sewn to seams,
With frayed out hems on all your jeans ....
And, THAT was wear and tear!

No such thing as student debt,
No over-spending to regret,
What you earned was what you'd get ....
And that was not alot!

No dry white wine or G and T,
A barley wine would do for me,
To last from eight 'til ten thirty,
With straws, then we could share!

No plastic cards, no mobile phones,
To call your dad to take you home,
And - oh - how Mum would always moan
When you sneaked in at three!

Purple lipstick, freaked-out hair,
A pair of hot-pants - if you dare!
It made 'em look, it made 'em stare
Back in those Hippy Days.

Freaking out at College Do's
To Ozibissa and The Who
Then smooching to the Chi-lites (ugh!),
Back in those Hippy Days.

A choice of cheap and cheerful booze,
A dock, or sample,you could choose ...
At Yates' Wine Lodge where the queues
went on and on and on .....

"What was it like?" my daughter says,
Way back then in the "Olden Days"?
Less stressful than it is today
Back in those Hippy Days!



Glastonbury Tor - Gem of Somerset
(inspired by the myths and legends i have heard,and of course, by the many early mornings i have spent photographing the Tor!)


Behold me in the spring-time 'neath my misty satin veil,
Magical, Mythical, Mystical, my legends i prevail,
Behold me on a summer morn, beneath my crown of gold,
A regal sight, a shining knight, a king from times of old.

From years gone by, from far and wide, 'tis i they all adore,
The Precious Gem of Somerset, the Glastonbury Tor.

Behold me on an autumn day, as the sun begins to rise,
Adorned in crimson sunbeams descending from the skies.
Behold me on a winter's morn - alas, i am not there,
In sombre mood, i stand subdued; my shroud of mist i wear.

From years gone by, from far and wide, 'tis i they all adore,
the Precious Gem of Somerset, the Glastonbury Tor.

Behold me through the darkest times, through evil and through fear,
You sinners, saints and martyrs, all your secrets I still share.
Fear not, all those who came before, for i shall never tell,
Your secrets are all safe with me, through Heaven and through Hell.

From years gone by, from far and wide, 'tis i they all adore,
the Precious Gem of Somerset, the Glastonbury Tor.



An Ode to Foxybiddy
(Inspired by, of course, by Foxybiddy herself, the old vixen that gives her name to my website! )

In red fur coat, on dainty feet,
From dusk to dawn, from street to street,
With silent steps and shifty eyes,
She moves beneath the starry skies.
She pauses as a car goes by,
Almost as if to deny
Her presence .... Then she walks on by.

In red fur coat, on dainty feet,
Her cunning eyes peer down the street,
Where suddenly, a tall dark man
Tumbles from a slowing van,
Then, staggering in a drunken state,
Fumbles to get through the gate.
Stumbling down the garden steps,
He drops his bag of fish and chips.
Too drunk to notice; too tired to care,
He goes inside and leaves them there.

In red fur coat, on dainty feet,
She shuffles slyly down the street,
Her pride defeated by her needs,
With several hungry mouths to feed.
A piercing cry of sheer delight,
This lady's luck is in tonight!
A pot of gold, a midnight feast
To share amongst her hungry beasts!

In red fur coat, on dainty feet,
She hurries back along the street,
With takeaway between her jaws,
Past peeping curtains, opening doors,
Past screeching brakes and dazzling lights
She races swiftly through the night,
Through howling wind and pouring rain
'Cross busy roads down leafy lanes,
To vanish midst the trees and shrubs,
To feed her pack of hungry cubs!


A Murmuration of Starlings
(Inspired by the ever popular starling roost at Westhay, here in Somerset)


One ... two ... three ... four ...
A hundred ... a thousand ... maybe more.
They fill the skies,
they fill your eyes,
Descending down like swarms of flies.
One thousand ... two thousand ... three thousand ... four;
A million starlings,
maybe more.
Where do they come from? How do they know
Which one is their leader?
Which way to go?
A continuous ribbon entwined in the clouds;
A swirling tornado ...
a heavenly shroud.
One million ... . two million ... three million .... four...
A  zillion starlings from heaven do pour.
To rest on the reed bed from dusk to dawn,
Then rise with the sun
as a new day is borne.
One million ... two million ... three million ... four ...
A Murmuration of starlings to heaven do soar!


All lyrics copyright to Lynne Newton (www.foxybiddy.com)