His mind filled with his fathers’ stories of monsters in the wood
The wilful child started out to see if these tales were good
Just six summers old and youthful bold he left one early morn
His eyes drinking in the light of his first solitary dawn’
The decision was made when he was ten that he had to try again
So he packed his bag and started out into the world of men
He didn’t make it very far but his travelling heart was stirred
When his ears picked up the sweet notes sung by the morning bird
Straining to stay among the people he had to grow up with
He planned and plotted his escape; his resolve would never give
As soon as he was old enough, his feet began to stir
And his little legs took him off to see what would occur.
The first time he put his thumb out it trembled with trepidation
And south was the direction in which lay his destination
Through new exciting territories he tripped his way along
Thinking up the lyrics to his humble hobo song
Arriving in the crowded capital he learned so very soon
That you’ll never make it very far just wishing on the moon
Bread doesn’t come so easily when there are many mouths to feed
And in the city philosophy he learned about mans greed
So our hero struck out westwards and headed for the wild sea
Whilst listening and watching, he learned about our history
He mingled with the poor and wretched, and heard their tales of woe
Always sharing what he had spare, as he wandered to and fro
Sitting in the wilderness of deserted coastal lands
He stayed a while just watching the changing of the sands
Pondering on his future and what he’d leave behind
The meaning of the meaningless he struggled hard to find
Following along the footpaths, laid down by ancient man
Slowly forming in his mind there was a most amazing plan
And as he passed through others lives he tried to leave them blessed
For if he touched just one lost soul he knew he’d done his best
Sat sheltering in crumbling churchyards he observed and he absorbed
And studied the sacred teachings of him whom they call Lord
Finally it occurred to him that he himself could teach
But the only thing he thought we’d need was for us to be taught peace
When the beaches began to northward turn, well friends then so did he
And found himself on cliff top paths of Arthurian mystery
The legends and the myths passed down from many years ago
Helped romanticise his eager mind and his imaginings to grow
It was fate and the weather that finally turned him, hurriedly inland
It surely wasn’t what our humble hero had got planned
But lifts he got from spot to spot they dropped him by the Tor
And things he saw on pagan sights opened up a whole new door
His spiritual heart awakened he turned back towards the coast
As summer was approaching and it was the place he loved the most
While doing the necessary slave work to put money in his glove
He found the most amazing girl, it turned out was his true love
She was his kindred spirit; she was his missing rib
She was the ink that formed the words flowing from his nib
He took her for a walk with him, a walk without an end
And from place to place they freely roamed, with nature tried to blend
So now together, joined forever, as all good hearts should be
They travel the land in silent search of all that they can see
As long as they have each other through all lifes twists and bends
It doesn’t matter to either one where the story ends
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem