S.J.DAY
© Copyright Romanygenes 2007--2020 Design and Web Layout © 2007-2020 S.J.Day All Rights Reserved
Copyright RomanyGenes 2007-2020 Design and Web Layout S.J.Day All Rights Reserved
New England
I journeyed to New England
within birch and heathered down
I rode upon a pony there
where Gypsies bedded down
There were sackcloth on the floor there
clay beneath your feet
gravel on the sidewalk
the nicest folks you'd meet
I trod upon the bracken
where the rhododendron grew
there were dartford warblers singing
not far from Waterloo
The village children came there
to crown the Gypsy king
there were Whites and Coopers laughing
I heard a blackbird sing
Across from Wallisdown and Bear Cross
the Gypsy rovers danced
there was music in the night
when the Gypsy lady glanced
She said i was so gifted
I had the rose tattoo
I was a lucky fellow
from Alderney via Poole
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chanced pon the gypsy queens
With vardos there all on display and heathers bound for chavvys play
The gypsy king was true to form with tales of old and wheels all worn
The road was hard when folks were true to
gypsy lore and common dues
The customs then were fit for a king with
common rights and everything
The fairground charms with darts and lace
with fortunes told to bright ones face
The walks to market village greens the
wayward men and words obscene
The dancing gals with tops that spun
castanets and lewdly folki song
The ponies free to graze the moors
with tattooed bridles and woolly shawls
The yarns that Horace Cooper told
folks said he had a heart of gold
They burnt their homes as they died and
jumped the brooms each happy bride
The heaths were rich in rabbits stews with
ferreting for each boy blue
Romany Genes be rich in law with roads
a winding and Vardos tall
Lamps that shone with brass so clean like
Gypsy's eyes at Halloween
The Canford Gypsies
When heathers stretched from Hamworthy to Waterloo
the Gypsies camped upon lodge hills to Poole
from old wareham road to lane of wool
Hanging their washing
on broom and furze Bush branch
and playing their games
of wish and chance
With pony rides
on bare backed frames
from magna road
to the alders knee
born free
Where Ringwood road met Wallisdown
two hundred barefooted children
gathered around
then marched down to the Kinson school
to join in with the lessons too
At the foot of the alder hills
I first met up with jack and Jill's
around the little rush filled pond
it was there we sat
with ducks and swans.
Where two Hamlin pipers
face each other and played their tune
at the big glass house
each day at noon
Nearby the Dorset knob
of neither crust or door
we sat and ate from daisy floor
a picnic sack of this and that
and then we followed the Gypsies back
across their common path trod tracks
to Canfords many scattered camps
where all were welcomed
lords and tramps
As years went by they lost their common rights
for to sleep beneath the moon and stars at night
and to run or ride
across the sandy canford tracks
to light their fires
and chat till late
dance and sing and celebrate
the gift of god
the freedoms of man
and the wiry gifts of the diddy coy man
Now as i look across the Canford scene
I'm amazed to think back to what once had been
for their tracks and trails are covered oer
by tarmac laid
and the the giant spill of housing maze
a complex park
and gone are the clan
who lit a spark
along with the gay caravans
and the wiser ways of the Gypsy man
Gypsy Days
At heavenly bottom on the canford heath plains
I stumbled on gypsies again and again
some wore their shawls and some went to woolys in town
for to sale pegs and flowers for your pretty gowns
So cross my palm with silver dear and talk of diddy coy
for i was just a mush then and she gave me of the eye
i could neither dance a reel or of the blarney sing
but i knew of the queen of the kinson kings
So make your signs on doorsteps and talk in that refrain
come with i and wander down old kinsons heather lanes
though i could ferrit with the rabbits and hide out in the bush
but often id get blackened eye by some gypsy fighting mush
How we loved the fairgrounds with their humming carousels
with horses for a riding and baskets of heathers for to sale
the darts they were a flying and the boxers were a sight
there twer walls of death to ride and the locals for to fight
The gypsy girls were course and loud
though their looks were sultry dark
they handled their aggressions and they loved in in the park
they were quick in love and awesome in the arts
The old-n days
When i ran with the Turners
the mabeys and Kings
the heath lands were wild then
the chaff finch did sing
There were sites at the corner
where the johns kids did play
i remember it fondly
twas as if yesterday
The bunk off man was waterman
from Branksome heath school
we hid in the fir cones
on sea view near Poole
We often played marbles
then conkers was cool
when we ran with the zunners
from Kinson to Poole
We rode the wee brown bus to up on the hill
the regal house flicks and the waterloo pool
there twer Gypsy's sites spread all over the lanes
i remember it well and the brick making men
with their watches with chains
The snake was the pub where the Stanley's did fight
there's was shove halfpenny playing both day n night
old bill knotty sold shoes laces and matches up on the hill
when we walked to school daily and still had time to kill
Spider was the cool accordion man
an eye for the ladies with his tattoos n plans
lady wimborne gave a field to the people of Poole
reg rogers and Alice saw Bill Cody too
I remember the omnium brick company
the Manning's brickyard and the rogers truck crew
when Charlie had his pig sties and lester was rich
we walked to lodge hills and i fell in a ditch
The heaths were full of blossoms afore broom roads drugs
i remember families built homes cut outs in mud
there were bakers and archers maidment and fools
little boy tucker and how do you do
The heaths were a joy then with lizards and snakes
where rabbits ran free and Sutton's were never too late
there twer a race track at northbourne or was it red hill
my memories going though i remember it still
There were coal men and rovers and a johnny from France
who came every summer with his onion man dance
folks worked in the factory's upon Wallis downs
a penny was something and a pig could be bought for half of a crown
The cartwheels did roll and the gypsies did sing
the birdsong did wake you each morning at spring
Old Kinson
Did you know old Kinson
afore there was West Howe
did you know it stretched to sea view
on the edge of Poole somehow
did you know it was a wild desolate place
where gypsies rode on horseback
granfer knew his place
Did you know it was a village
where Gulliver ran free
did you know it kinson then was just pure history
did you know about the coopers
and the whites who made the pipes and clay
did you know about the king who visitedLady Wimborne
one day
did you know about the family of guests
the artist at the alderney manor
bet now you are impressed
Did you know about the Crutchers
the stables and the tanner
did you know about old kinson
afore Newtown was born
did you know about St Andrew's
it was the parish afore Poole
that stainer's was a cobbler
who mended all the shoes
Did you know about the pottery
did you know about the heath
did you know about Bourne bottom
or even Cuckoo Woods
did you know about old kinson
the stocks upon the green
the round table it was at Canford School
the Bear Cross was just a bare road across
The rhododendrons bushes that stretched to Waterloo
the Manning's heath farmland and Rogers brickyard too
the Slade's farm at Columbia was in Kinson too
did you know its mentioned in the doomsday
its famous down in Poole
famous people came to visit
or as they traveled through
Did you know about old kinson
before the Bennett's family crew
all the gypsy sites to Poole
their caravans scattered throughout wallisdown
where the rabbits ran so freely then
upon the pretty heather down
Did you know old kinson
before the caravans
when knotty wasn't born
did you know the Stanley's
did you know their names
did you know the gillinghams
here we go again
Did you know old kinson
when it was just old gravel n sandy tracks
afore john Augustus painted Mary gear
so nude in the sack
did you know about the lodges
on the hills of canford heath
did you know
thats where i cut my teeth
A few from many delightfull poems penned by Ray Wills the Dorset Baird ,these ones are about the local Gypsy Camps that were scattered around his birth place which overlooked the once great expanse of Canford Heath. Known locally as Heavenly Bottom,Cuckoo Bottom,New England ,Bourne Bottom ,The bogs and a few more!!! Ray has also penned hundreds more ,and with a big focus on his native Dorset please visit his site to read some lovely poems that will evoke your childhood memories when the pace of life was much slower and gentle and all things seemed wonderful to a young lad or lass.
The Gypsy Poet Poetry and verse by the Dorset Poet Raymond Wills.
all poems are copyright RAY WILLS 2006
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Poetry and verse by the Dorset Poet Raymond Wills. all poems are copyright RAY WILLS 2006