Another Dale Potts poem! "The Glorious Twelfth"

To celebrate the glorious twelfth,
cruel men with surplus wealth,
head out for the heath-clad hill,
Not for the beauty of the ling,
nor to hear the soaring skylark sing
But just to maim and kill.

If I were to treat a dog or cat
With mindless cruelty such as that
T’would be prison for a time
But if I take a sporting gun
And blast away a bird for fun
They’d no call that a crime.

We’ve somehow lost respect for life
In it’s place put rebellious strife
To maim with shot and shell
We lost the vision of heaven on earth
And seem intent to haste the birth
The birth on earth of hell.


Some more challenging words to think on.
(by the way, August 12th is the glorious twelfth.)

Oh To Be In England poem

Oh To Be In England

Oh to be in England, when the year is at the Spring,
To see the lambs a playing and hear the wee birds sing.
Watch the woodlands and the meadows don robes of living green,
When the hawthorn and the bluebells are sights that must be seen.
When all nature is awakening from it's long ,long winter's sleep
And striving, oh so surely the Creator's dates to keep.

Oh to be in England, or just local if you like,
To rove with kindred spirits o'er woodland moor and dyke
To monitor the migrant birds that nest around these parts
The marlins and the warblers and the bonnie, shy, redstarts.
And marvel how they find their way, to Afric's sunny clime
And then return to us again when it is nesting time.
There find a site to build a nest, where in their young to rear
And then depart to warmer climes, at the closing of the year.

A poem by my Grandad, Harry Huddleston (aka Dale Potts), celebrating the wonderful spring season. I thought it tied in well with there being redstarts on Springwatch.