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The Modern Antiquarian Forum » Megalithic Poems |
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StoneLifter 1594 posts |
Oct 30, 2006, 10:15
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No, I know that, but it fits the topic, all the same. And you've started me thinking about my mispelled youth - listening to Donovan and sleeping on beaches. Damon owes a fair bit to RH (all Mancs together !)
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rocknicker 908 posts |
Oct 30, 2006, 11:10
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A spy tells me: It's called "A Wiltshire Tale", it's by Nick Harper, and it's on the Treasure Island CD.
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Jane 3024 posts |
Oct 30, 2006, 11:15
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Way-heh!!!! Splendid! Thanks, pebs. J x
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Jane 3024 posts |
Oct 30, 2006, 15:54
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Fleets of Bedford rascals make like shepherds for the border bringing treats and tasty parcels past the grasp of law and order to a man who mows a meadow just a mile or so from Marlborough with his silo bins of psylocybin hidden underwater moonraking making merry modern mirthful smirking mortals as crop circle tourists searching for the perfect portal and one-percenters hurtle on in bounty laden bentleys the centre of their world’s beyond this county evidently so Farmer Giles smiles gently ‘gainst a stile as if a sentry his dog the vale air snorts a plenty faithful four and twenty who hackles up and means to bark but checks his master’s feelings lest he should put to flight the figure who approaches over the crest for neither know nor friend nor for like this unbidden guest who settles there the stile his chair and utters this bequest “I am that man they call old Nicolas Flamel who cannot die quicksilver streams immortal dreams between you and my eye for I was here many a long year before big belly oak was a sapling from the hill-fort down to the village green I saw tribal teams a-grappling where Merlin’s mound bound magic in the chalk down ground and the causeway side where the white horse rides in the bright night sky when the bourne is high and wide where was a hill hand-harrowed with the marrow of the barrow and the megalith henges aligned now golf course buggies caddy daddies to the sand and the modern day tumuli where Romans dropped their coins in wells and lit candles for their friends they came they saw they left and burnt the sandal at both ends this shire the spear of Alfred’s Wessex put the danelaw men to run lashed from here to Essex with rock hard cakes and the English tongue where templars sharpened swords of steel on standing sarsen stones where the wind cries ‘myrtle’ round hangman’s tree and the old oak gibbet moans again crusaders train on the bustard plain to flatten saracen homes with broadband waistline uptown download chatroom ringtone phones” and there at last he stopped and cast a graven eye at dog and man and he said with weary I wish no more to live beyond what mortals can and he reached deep down in his cloak and he offered up a pebble in his open hand and said, “here have this stone that grants a neverending span” but the farmer laughed and said, “why you know not who I am why none other than that famous feted Giles of Ham who took the book from the dragon’s nook and stopped time’s falling sand and I’ve a stone of my own so you take yours and get off my land!”
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Oct 30, 2006, 17:12
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Ah wonderful! From this - ...where Merlin’s mound bound magic in the chalk down ground and the causeway side where the white horse rides in the bright night sky when the bourne is high and wide where was a hill hand-harrowed with the marrow of the barrow and the megalith henges aligned... to this - ...“why you know not who I am why none other than that famous feted Giles of Ham who took the book from the dragon’s nook and stopped time’s falling sand and I’ve a stone of my own so you take yours and get off my land!” :-) Thanks Jane, also to rocknicker for tracking it down and StoneLifter for Back to the Stones. x
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Oct 30, 2006, 22:02
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Here's another one for you SL :-) (I rejoined CND last week, the plastic badge back on m' lapel - this time with a poppy pinned behind it though.) Battle Of The Beanfield I thought I heard something calling me I've seen the pictures on TV And I made up my mind that I'd go and see With my own eyes It didn't take too long to hitch a ride With a guy going south to start a new life Past the place where my friend died Two years ago Down the 303 at the end of the road Flashing lights - exclusion zones And it made me think it's not just the stones That they're guarding Hey, hey, now can't you see There's nothing here that you can call free They're getting their kicks They're laughing at you and me As the sun rose on the beanfield They came like wolf on the fold And no, they didn't give a warning They took their bloody toll I seen a pregnant woman Lying in blood of her own I seen her children crying As the police tore apart their home And no they didn't need a reason It's what your votes condone It seems they were committing treason By trying to live on the road And I say, Hey, hey, now can't you see There's nothing here that you can call free They're getting their kicks They're laughing at you and me Hey, hey, now can't you see There's nothing here that you can call free They're getting their kicks They're laughing at you and me Bastards Remember what you heard, Hey, hey, now can't you see There's nothing here that you can call free They're getting their kicks They're laughing at you and me The Levellers
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Pete G 3506 posts |
Oct 30, 2006, 23:12
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpDpFh4tWZE
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Pete G 3506 posts |
Oct 30, 2006, 23:14
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Isabel makes love upon national monuments With style and enthusiasm and anyone at all. Isabel's done Stonehenge and the Houses of Parliament, But so far little Isabel's never played the Albert Hall. Many a monolith has seen Isabel, Her bright hair in turmoil, her breasts’ surging swell. But unhappy Albert, so far denied The bright sight of Isabel getting into her stride. The Forth Bridge, The Cenotaph, Balmoral and Wembley. The British Museum and the House of Lords. So many ticks in her National Trust catalogue, But so far the Royal Albert Hall has not scored. Countless cathedrals can now proudly show Where Isabel's white shoulder blades have briefly reposed. Miserable Albert, still waiting for The imprint of Isabel on his parquet floor. In Westminster Abbey she lay upon a cold tombstone, The meat in a sandwich of monumental love, With old po-faced Wordsworth unblinking beneath And a bright-eyed young Arch-Deacon breathless above. Many a stony faced statue has flickered its eyes And swayed to the rhythm of her little panting cries. But oh! wretched Albert never yet has known Isabel's pretty whinnying echo round his dome. On the last night of the Promenades she waved to the conductor And there and then on the podium, with scarcely a pause, With a smile and a bow and a loud "Rule Britannia!" He completed her collection to enormous applause. Rapturous Albert now knows full well He's captured forever elusive Isabel. Prettily dishevelled but firmly installed And faithfully for evermore to the Royal Albert Hall. No more frantic scramblings up the dome of St. Pauls. No more dank rambles on Hadrian's Wall. With style and enthusiasm and anyone at all, Isabel makes love in the Royal Albert Hall. Words & Music: Jake Thackray
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Rhiannon 5291 posts |
Oct 31, 2006, 21:09
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This reminds me particularly of the King Stone at the Rollrights. From Act 3 Scene 4, on seeing Banquo's ghost: "It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood: Stones have been known to move and trees to speak; Augurs and understood relations have By magot-pies and choughs and rooks brought forth The secret'st man of blood. What is the night?"
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Littlestone 5386 posts |
Oct 31, 2006, 21:24
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Good heavens! Thank you for that :-)
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