THESE
ROLLING HILLS
by John Hayes
These
rolling hills they’re so familiar,
With the rumbling they make,
But dotted about there’s something lurking,
Lying there in wait,
When daylights here you wouldn’t believe,
But as night falls you’d ask,
Who are the people crawling about,
In that old Wiltshire grass?
You sometimes see them through the day,
Maybe when the weather’s clear,
But mostly you’ll just know they’re there,
Because of the bangs you’ll hear,
There’s a danger lurking behind those flags,
But one that cant be seen,
A secret, no, but we still can’t say,
Exactly what we’ve seen.
©
John
Hayes 2009
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