<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138</id><updated>2012-02-17T03:09:20.603Z</updated><title type='text'>Edith Florence Ellick (Hill) (1910-2005)</title><subtitle type='html'>Nev's Grandma's poetry&lt;br&gt;
&lt;i&gt;Written while working at Ash Hill Lodge, 1928-1930&lt;/i&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>15</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-8984663411951108794</id><published>2009-07-11T20:20:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:20:57.892+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Holidays</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;13.9.30&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     Now work is over,&lt;br /&gt;And books packed away,&lt;br /&gt;For we’re off for our holidays&lt;br /&gt;All pleasure and play&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’ve packed our cases&lt;br /&gt;And now we must run&lt;br /&gt;For the taxi is waiting&lt;br /&gt;So now starts the fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-8984663411951108794?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/8984663411951108794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/holidays.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/8984663411951108794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/8984663411951108794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/holidays.html' title='Holidays'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-9173989613878247210</id><published>2009-07-11T20:20:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:20:39.929+01:00</updated><title type='text'>It</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;13.9.30&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     What is this thing called “It”&lt;br /&gt;That no one can define&lt;br /&gt;With a meaning more clear&lt;br /&gt;Than the one you have here&lt;br /&gt;Of that marvellous thing called “It”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some say “It” is sex appeal&lt;br /&gt;So what is sex appeal&lt;br /&gt;If you have “It”&lt;br /&gt;And I have “It”&lt;br /&gt;We both have sex appeal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-9173989613878247210?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/9173989613878247210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/9173989613878247210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/9173989613878247210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/it.html' title='It'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-3073262685877023349</id><published>2009-07-11T20:20:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:20:18.063+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dancing</title><content type='html'>Oh! The joy of dancing,&lt;br /&gt;To music, bright and gay,&lt;br /&gt;To end the day of working,&lt;br /&gt;With evenings spent this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some prefer the Cinema&lt;br /&gt;While others choose a walk,&lt;br /&gt;Along the country lanes&lt;br /&gt;Where they can spoon and talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some may choose the Theatre,&lt;br /&gt;Because it may be near,&lt;br /&gt;But oh the joys of Dancing&lt;br /&gt;With the one you hold most dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To feel his arms around you,&lt;br /&gt;As he guides you round the floor&lt;br /&gt;Then to sit out in between,&lt;br /&gt;On the seat behind the door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-3073262685877023349?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/3073262685877023349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/dancing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/3073262685877023349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/3073262685877023349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/dancing.html' title='Dancing'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-2004317948090714912</id><published>2009-07-11T20:19:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:19:57.420+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Shepherd</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;5.7.29&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     The sky was flushed with a rosy hue&lt;br /&gt;As the light of dawn came stealing through.&lt;br /&gt;“Red! there’s a sign of another wet day”&lt;br /&gt;Sighed the Shepherd as he wended his way.&lt;br /&gt;Across the hills, to his fold and flock&lt;br /&gt;To see that he loses none of his stock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-2004317948090714912?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/2004317948090714912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/shepherd.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/2004317948090714912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/2004317948090714912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/shepherd.html' title='The Shepherd'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-3179351948018294997</id><published>2009-07-11T20:19:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:19:35.597+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Country</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;20.6.29&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt; Oh give me the country,&lt;br /&gt;Before all your towns,&lt;br /&gt;To roam at my ease,&lt;br /&gt;O’er byways and downs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh give me the meadows&lt;br /&gt;Where children may play,&lt;br /&gt;Without giving a thought&lt;br /&gt;To traffic all day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The country where children&lt;br /&gt;Are sturdy and strong&lt;br /&gt;In fresh air and sunshine&lt;br /&gt;The whole day long.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-3179351948018294997?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/3179351948018294997/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/country.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/3179351948018294997'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/3179351948018294997'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/country.html' title='The Country'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-4601367367679798389</id><published>2009-07-11T20:18:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:19:15.425+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Painters</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;12.6.29&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     We’ve got the painters&lt;br /&gt;At our home,&lt;br /&gt;Dabbing paint and paper&lt;br /&gt;In every room.&lt;br /&gt;Oh! We’ve got the painters at our house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one is rather old,&lt;br /&gt;He’s boss of the show,&lt;br /&gt;The other is young,&lt;br /&gt;And inclined to be slow.&lt;br /&gt;Oh! We’ve got the painters at our house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cook forgets the salt in this,&lt;br /&gt;The sugar in the pie,&lt;br /&gt;She stands talking to the painters&lt;br /&gt;Then to cooking has to fly.&lt;br /&gt;Oh! We’ve got the painters at our house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-4601367367679798389?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/4601367367679798389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/painters.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/4601367367679798389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/4601367367679798389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/painters.html' title='The Painters'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-3828180458825431905</id><published>2009-07-11T20:18:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:18:51.905+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Ball</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;6.4.29&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     Come hurry young ladies,&lt;br /&gt;Prepare for the Ball.&lt;br /&gt;Your escorts are waiting you&lt;br /&gt;Down in the hall,&lt;br /&gt;To whirl you away,&lt;br /&gt;To a room of delight,&lt;br /&gt;To dance through the hours&lt;br /&gt;Of this long happy night.&lt;br /&gt;To fill all your hours&lt;br /&gt;With pleasure and glee&lt;br /&gt;And drink something stranger&lt;br /&gt;Than coffee or tea.&lt;br /&gt;Then home in the morning&lt;br /&gt;In the dawning daylight&lt;br /&gt;To dream through again&lt;br /&gt;Of that long blissful night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-3828180458825431905?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/3828180458825431905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/ball.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/3828180458825431905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/3828180458825431905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/ball.html' title='The Ball'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-476765393736854172</id><published>2009-07-11T20:18:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:18:31.294+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blind Man</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;16.3.29&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt; Gentle Lady&lt;br /&gt;  Spare a penny,&lt;br /&gt;As you travel on your way,&lt;br /&gt;I am blind, and life is dreary,&lt;br /&gt;Won’t you help me just today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gentle Lady&lt;br /&gt;  Won’t you heed me,&lt;br /&gt;Won’t you pity my poor plight,&lt;br /&gt;For I have no means of earning,&lt;br /&gt;Since the day I lost my sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gentle Lady&lt;br /&gt;  I beseech you,&lt;br /&gt;Won’t you help me buy some bread,&lt;br /&gt;For my wife is weak and ailing,&lt;br /&gt;And my children must be fed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gentle Lady&lt;br /&gt;  I am willing&lt;br /&gt;To toil morning, noon, and night,&lt;br /&gt;But I cannot get employment,&lt;br /&gt;Now that I have lost my sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gentle Lady&lt;br /&gt;  Do not think,&lt;br /&gt;That I beg with easy grace,&lt;br /&gt;It is hard for I have pride,&lt;br /&gt;But my children have first place.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-476765393736854172?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/476765393736854172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/blind-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/476765393736854172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/476765393736854172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/blind-man.html' title='The Blind Man'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-8263066460791484433</id><published>2009-07-11T20:17:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:18:09.067+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas Carol</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;1924&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     Cold and starlight was the night,&lt;br /&gt;Softly the wind was blowing,&lt;br /&gt;When three wise men, came into sight,&lt;br /&gt;Unto the stable going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had come from miles afar,&lt;br /&gt;To gaze on the babe so pure&lt;br /&gt;They were led my the guiding star,&lt;br /&gt;That stopped o’er the stable door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quietly they enter in,&lt;br /&gt;With an astonished stare,&lt;br /&gt;They had expected to find the child of God,&lt;br /&gt;Wrapped in costly raiment rare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See them kneeling at the manger,&lt;br /&gt;Quietly in prayer,&lt;br /&gt;Now they offer with devotion&lt;br /&gt;Gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-8263066460791484433?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/8263066460791484433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/christmas-carol.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/8263066460791484433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/8263066460791484433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/christmas-carol.html' title='Christmas Carol'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-1783606783223332272</id><published>2009-07-11T20:17:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:17:47.019+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Bus Conductors</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;9.2.27&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     Oh! What a life you bus conductors lead,&lt;br /&gt;For to do hard work, you have no need,&lt;br /&gt;Your hardest work, well so you say,&lt;br /&gt;Is running up and down stairs all the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You help the ladies on and off your bus&lt;br /&gt;But when it comes to men, oh dear what a cuss.&lt;br /&gt;You chatter to the ladies and arrange to meet them all&lt;br /&gt;You take one to the pictures, another to the ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s just platonic friendship, so what is there to care,&lt;br /&gt;If only your wife still thinks your playing fair,&lt;br /&gt;You tell the girls your married but your wife is just in name,&lt;br /&gt;And then plead for their sympathy as you were not to blame.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-1783606783223332272?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/1783606783223332272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/bus-conductors.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/1783606783223332272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/1783606783223332272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/bus-conductors.html' title='Bus Conductors'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-9074401195284038026</id><published>2009-07-11T20:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:17:25.332+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Billy and I</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;8.2.29&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     Billy and I one Summer’s day,&lt;br /&gt;Made up our minds to run away.&lt;br /&gt;We decided to go to London Town,&lt;br /&gt;To find a fortune all our own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But ere we had gone many miles on our way&lt;br /&gt;The sun disappeared the sky turned grey.&lt;br /&gt;The rain poured down, and the wind it blew,&lt;br /&gt;Poor Billy and I knew not what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through walking so far, we were very footsore.&lt;br /&gt;We had got so far, but could go no more.&lt;br /&gt;So we sat by the roadside and started to cry,&lt;br /&gt;And wished then, and there, that we might both die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being so weary we soon fell asleep&lt;br /&gt;To dream of our home, the farm and the sheep,&lt;br /&gt;But soon we awoke with a feeling of pain&lt;br /&gt;For we were stiff, and wet with the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But imagine our joy, when along the road&lt;br /&gt;We saw Farmer Giles with a horse and a load,&lt;br /&gt;And when he came to us, and saw our plight,&lt;br /&gt;He said he would take us home that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So he lifted us onto his load of hay,&lt;br /&gt;And we came back the road, we came that day&lt;br /&gt;We told him our tale as we travelled along,&lt;br /&gt;And he told us tales of when he was young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last we came to our old homestead.&lt;br /&gt;Where Mother was waiting to put us to bed&lt;br /&gt;And we promised then, no more we would roam&lt;br /&gt;To seek a fortune away from home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-9074401195284038026?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/9074401195284038026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/billy-and-i.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/9074401195284038026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/9074401195284038026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/billy-and-i.html' title='Billy and I'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-8353150494177057830</id><published>2009-07-11T20:14:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:15:06.001+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Spring</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;23.X.24&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     The season of Winter has gone,&lt;br /&gt;The season of Spring is here,&lt;br /&gt;For now we have the warm bright sun,&lt;br /&gt;We know the swallows will soon be here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The buds on the trees are bursting forth,&lt;br /&gt;The birds are blithe and gay.&lt;br /&gt;The children are so full of mirth,&lt;br /&gt;As they work and dance and play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gardens are filled with flowers,&lt;br /&gt;All blossoming in the sun.&lt;br /&gt;And people are resting in shady bowers,&lt;br /&gt;Now their days work is done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-8353150494177057830?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/8353150494177057830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/spring.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/8353150494177057830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/8353150494177057830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/spring.html' title='Spring'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-5482293666108672022</id><published>2009-07-11T20:14:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:14:40.119+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Our World</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;5.2.29&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt; This world of ours is hard to beat.&lt;br /&gt;And he who wins ne’er knows defeat,&lt;br /&gt;And he who keeps a smiling face,&lt;br /&gt;Will find the world a jolly place.&lt;br /&gt;But he who grumbles, night and day,&lt;br /&gt;Come good luck, or come what may,&lt;br /&gt;Will find this world has got no place,&lt;br /&gt;For one who keeps a gloomy face.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-5482293666108672022?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/5482293666108672022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/our-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/5482293666108672022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/5482293666108672022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/our-world.html' title='Our World'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-5146959676311209518</id><published>2009-07-11T20:14:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:14:20.946+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Flappers</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;4.2.29&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p&gt; We flappers of today,&lt;br /&gt;Are criticised by all.&lt;br /&gt;Who seek us when we make life pay,&lt;br /&gt;But ignore us when we fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when we keep a smiling face,&lt;br /&gt;To hide a heart that’s healing.&lt;br /&gt;You say that we’re a hardened race&lt;br /&gt;Incapable of feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our dresses are disgraceful,&lt;br /&gt;To hear you people talk,&lt;br /&gt;Our dancing you describe,&lt;br /&gt;As just a lazy walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our morals are debasing,&lt;br /&gt;Our slang you term obscene,&lt;br /&gt;But we are tired of hearing,&lt;br /&gt;Of charm that once has been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now listen Elders one and all,&lt;br /&gt;To what I have to say,&lt;br /&gt;Remember times are different now&lt;br /&gt;Than they were in your day.&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-5146959676311209518?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/5146959676311209518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/flappers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/5146959676311209518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/5146959676311209518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/flappers.html' title='Flappers'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4725925252337953138.post-8562573229222207957</id><published>2009-07-11T20:13:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T20:13:40.728+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ode To My Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;i&gt;29.1.28&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     Mother dear&lt;br /&gt;Who gave me life,&lt;br /&gt;Who guarded me through fear and strife,&lt;br /&gt;Who shaped me for the path of life,&lt;br /&gt;My Mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother dear&lt;br /&gt;Who made my bread.&lt;br /&gt;Who taught me prayers beside my bed,&lt;br /&gt;Who planned for me the life I led,&lt;br /&gt;My Mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother dear&lt;br /&gt;Who watched o’er me,&lt;br /&gt;Healed my aches and pains for me,&lt;br /&gt;Oft knelt in silent prayer for me,&lt;br /&gt;My Mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother dear&lt;br /&gt;Who tended me,&lt;br /&gt;When in illness long I lay,&lt;br /&gt;Gave up sleep as well for me,&lt;br /&gt;My Mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother dear&lt;br /&gt;Who chided me,&lt;br /&gt;When in sin my steps would stray,&lt;br /&gt;Who showed to me the better way,&lt;br /&gt;My Mother.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4725925252337953138-8562573229222207957?l=edithpoems.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/feeds/8562573229222207957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/ode-to-my-mother.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/8562573229222207957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4725925252337953138/posts/default/8562573229222207957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edithpoems.blogspot.com/2009/07/ode-to-my-mother.html' title='Ode To My Mother'/><author><name>Rev Nev</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
