The Durzet Baird   Ray Wills

                                      Louie Foot


Louie foot the gypsy rode an  old Ford T

she was a real coolest lady you ever did see

she gave lifts to the clan through rossmore steep hills n lanes

services through  alder hills to upon hill n back again


Ted Sherwood was the boxing king

He was a true preacher diddy coy

He won so many lonsdale belts

First won coconuts at Poole fair shies n gave foes a black eye


Mrs bonham Christie was a sad recluse

on brownsea island shores

she had a wicked gun they said

she fired it all twelve bore


Lord and lady wimborne lived at Canford School

The amity was a flea pit in the old town of Poole

Poole had two white hearts plus a pub with no name

whilst the grasshoppers danced opposite Bournemouth's fast lane


Our trousers were short then and our legs were so sore

Though the gentry were rich landowners and we were so poor

Poole had a promenade amidst of the quay

where the sailors all danced their nights on the spree



                      Atchin Tan

They built them there a atchin tan

with concrete base and barbed wire surround

no more were they a free race lore

with open Sky's and heather floor


Now they partook the gorja ways

so its kushti bok and taxing days

no more the traditions of the gypsy clan

for now they twer part of the master plan


The 1994 act was introduced

to rob them of their rights and truce

each one imprisoned like a criminal for their nomadic ways

like a fortress camp in a Freeman's grave


The traditional skills were just old hat

their weaving baskets and ladies hats

no more the land to plant n sow

with ponies braided for to show


Still the dreams live on in Romany

like the life of the poor old didikie

where wagons rolled and stories told

in the past down gypsy roads



                                Bender Days


We all shared our benders there amongst the heathers deep

with granfer George and Mary Sweet with jackals at our feet

there we shared our rabbit's stew and ate fagots in a pie

they smoked the herbs amongst the downs where country folk passed by


The greens were rich upon the moors where the foxes built their dens

where horses lay and cockerel's crowed and rich folk hurried bye

the streams were rich with fishes then and springs upon the downs

where twas warblers sung afore the dawn and Mary gear passed by


The days were hard and folks did cry of cold and lack of grub

where briar's stretched across the heaths of ladies of the crown

though winds were harsh and nights were cold we shared our love and more

we sung our songs and shared our dreams each day upon the moors


The gypsy folks and traveler's no more do roam this land

where man has sold the heaths for gain and built a promised land

of bricks and sand and glass with frames where idle men doth walk

where monies gained and fools are framed with fun and idle talk


Long gone are the days of wagons wheels var dos and benders frames

where rabbits ran and gypsy son was singing in the rain

the tracks have gone and heathers grand across that fertile land

where dreams awoke and child first spoke at new dawn on the morn


                              Cinderella rose lee


Cinderella the gypsy lived upon the great South Shore

where the Blackpool Golden mile stretched and was well worth waiting for

They called her Rose Lee for she was a seer and true

she told you lots of fortune tales on the beach at old Blackpool


Her booth it was well lit up with pictures by the score

close by the donkeys serenades upon the Blackpool shore

she wore a scarf of gaiety and her lamp it was well lit

her cards spread on the table just across from where's you sit


Her eyes they looked right into you and read your mind and soul

she was dark and beautiful and her rings she did fare show

her dress was long and dignified like a lady of good taste

her skin was dark and mystical and her beauty in her face


Of all the gypsy ladies her words were true to form

she told you how it was from the day that she was born

her booth no longer sits there on Blackpool's golden mile

where lads and lassies came to call to see her golden smile

              The Gorse and the Briar


 As a child i did play in the gorse and the Brier

I lit up the heath with a match made a fire

the fire engines came from Poole town that day

some came from ferndown and a longs way away


Oh i collected the coney's from top of lodge hills

with sacks and my go cart of rusty of wheels

I chased on the heath the Rabbits and hares

before i went in the nights to visit Poole fair


I knew all the gypsies that ran on the sands

with lizards and adders and their diddy coy bands

there was birdsong and laughter and fern that went out to Poole

where the bog stretched across to meet Waterloo


The gypsy queen told me that if i was real good

she would tell me my fortune with the clans brotherhood

I was raised on the Manning's where the goldfinch were in tune

where the gaffer was rogers and the sun shone each noon


Though the pathways have gone now and its Industrial land

where the tower park stretches with houses so grand

though i can still hear the warblers as they sing in the briar's

whilst the pony's are staked out on the grasslands a while


Gone are the travellers and the noble lord guest

with the house and the lodge where the Freemasons met

only our memories all haunt us today

as we ponder and gaze at the hills far away

Louie Dingwall-Foott in later years