Glastonbury Town

Hugging the passers by
Loving them well
Clad in their colours
A collective spell
Of magical impulse
The sounds all were there
The colourful crazies
Willing to share

Their couplets of grand mirth
Astrological charm
Geraint in his magical shop
Ever calm
Wonderful oils sensationally
Endearing language
Wafts seriously
Into our nostrils
Obsessing caressing
A blessing in fact
A ditty as well
Softness and sweet nothings
Sporting and courting
Engaging the spirit
We all love so well

The goddess and green man
Tish met with Tim
Didgeridoo’s each final whim
Bamboo and termites
Lost in the van
Circular breathing
More pipes of pan

A weekend of gloriousness
Subtle blue skies
Friendship rewarded
Meetings of the wise
So many jesters very few fools
The crystals the magic
The taverns of old
The explosive ale
Bust guttingly cold

The A303 a track and a race
Taking in Stonehenge
And the ancient race
Of men who once carried those
Sarsons of old
Those ravens that nested
Out in the cold
And now modern ignorance
Wants to destroy
Build fucking tunnels
Of course to destroy
The spirits the magic
The gems of the age
And leave our ancestors
In a vile ugly rage.