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St George’s News - Waterlooville’s Parish Magazine

The Website for St George’s Church, Waterlooville and its Parish Magazine St George’s News

Summer 2021 issue

Golden Treasury


Way back in time in the fifties

Pop music had started to flow

I first became hooked on these sounds

Which very soon started to show.

There was Lonnie the master of skiffle

Doris, Alma and Al Martino

Tab and his Young Love were gorgeous

And Elvis had started to grow

We then moved into the 60’s

The best for Pop music by far

With an end to crystal set radios

You could even hear songs in your car!!

The Beatles soon hit the high spots

The rolling Stones too made the grade

With Beach Boys, Cliff and The Hollies

Roy Orbison, Cilla and Slade

As a ‘taster’ to the publication of the new St George’s Poem Book, 6th EditionLife under lockdown — (which is now available for sale, price £5), we are running a series of extracts from previous Poem Books.

To secure your copy of the new Poem Book contact: j.rice-oxley@stgeorges.church

Sweet Reunion

The Pirates supported this music

They broadcast from way out at sea

Radio Caroline, always a winner

Was really a favourite for me.

Sadly their time was soon over

We reverted to Radio 1

With Blackburn and similar DJs

We really lost some of the fun

And so we came into the 70’s

With Status and great Elton John

Pink Floyd, Bee Gees and Osmonds

The music just went on and on

The 80’s arrived with Madonna

And Abba with Freddie and Queen

With Pet Shop Boys and Police

And Wham, they all made the scene

And so we come more up to date

With sounds that make one sigh

Cos good music goes on forever

And reminds us of days long gone by

Tony Rice Oxley

Green Things

There are green things in my bread, Mum

And I really can’t think why.

Perhaps it’s something rather awful

That’s been dropped down from the sky.

Is it a sign that the end is near

And how should I prepare?

I’d better eat my chocolate bar

And is my comic there?

There are green things in my bread, Mum,

It really is a scream.

Will we get into the papers?
Will I get to meet the Queen?
Have the Aliens landed?

Is it some kind of seed?
Will I become like one of them

Or turn into a weed?

There are green things in my bread, Mum,

Yellow and black things too.

But they’re not so good as green things,

I thing green is best, don’t you?

And what about this –

Perhaps it’s a plot by the store

To kill off all the customers

So they can’t come back for more.

There are green things in my bread, Mum,

But no matter how I try

I can’t think who has put them there

Nor find the reason why.

Lynn Winter

Right sudden against my face – two golden clear

Great eyes astonished mine – a drooping ear

Did flap me on either cheek to dry the spray!

I started first, as some Arcadian

Amazed at piping Pan in twilight grove;

But as the bounding vision closer ran,

My tears dried, I knew Sandy, and rose above

Surprise and sadness, thanking my Creator and God,

Who, by such creatures, leads to heights of love.

Rosemary Goulding

Desmond the Owl

Desmond the owl, was wearing a scowl,

For some bounder had kidnapped his dinner.

For as Desmond said, an owl needs to be fed,

If a chaps not to get any thinner.

“Oh no” said his Mum, who had him under her thumb.

A diet is just what you’re needing.

With a belly your size, and those popping out eyes,

No way can you say you need feeding.”

And so, with a tear dripping over each ear,

And his beak tucked well into his tummy,

He trudged off to bed, and laid down his soft head,

And dreamt he was eating his Mummy!

Janet Johnson

Pink Mallows A Woodland Reverie

There is a glade where badgers bound

Where all is peace and gentle sound

Of woodland life.

Leaves whisper, soft grey squirrels run,

And there, with magic light, the sun

Shines upon jewels rosy, rare,

The wild pink mallows growing there

In modest pride.

Their colours gay and artless grace

Perfect the beauty of that place.

Thanks be to God for lovely things,

The daily pleasures nature brings

To lift our hearts.

Like pretty gardens fresh and neat

Fronting homes along the street.

It makes one feel the people there

Are sorts of folk who really care.

Despite the gloom

The misery and sin of the land,

Loving kindness comes from God’s hand.

‘Tis many a year alas

Since through that glade I’d pass

Where mallows grew.

There are hardships and trials cruel

To give soul and character rare fuel.

But here and there and all around

Glimpses of joy may still be found

For His love is ever true.

In my mind I see clear the past.

Dorothea Keable