Heathland Poems by The Durzet Baird Raymond Wills

 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 

  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

  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

  Caravans

They ride the rustic world of caravans

their dreams and visions in their hands

their only refuge is their plans

somewhere remote within this world of sin

they travel free remembering

when men were free and words were Truth

rabbits ran free upon the heaths

the fox was king and heather grew

upon the heaths of Waterloo

Onward to justice they strive to seek

a place called home just out of reach

their tinker talk their roaming eyes

their search for Truth and enterprise

their music rich their dance so free

upon those hills of liberty

their covered wagons of antiquity

Their words of diddyke and roman slang

their golden chests

their dreams of man

across the continent they dd roam

with heathered sprigs and fortunes home

there beneath the starlit skies

they smoked their pipes and planned their guise

Where birds nest soup and bark of tree

hid all their dreams in sanctuary

they set their course

for liberty

    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

.

Poetry and verse by the Dorset Poet Raymond Wills. all poems are copyright RAY WILLS 2006

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