Stonehenge Poem by Ripper Jones

The pubs had shut
we trundled into the Volkswagen and headed onto the motorway
we had decided to see Stonehenge
on we went through the night
oh how we laughed we laughed at everything
it was windy and the Volkswagen was high
I was afraid it would tip over
woke up and we were there
there was a little hut that was shut
no-one but us were there
it was five in the morning and the sun was up
we sat in a circle in the middle
seven hippies with hangovers
we felt no magic or mystery
so we asked Denise to take her clothes off
and dance the pagan dance
she refused so we talked a serious talk
about the huge stones surrounding us
we decided it was a either a neolithic nightclub
or a racecourse
we then left.