Stonehenge Bottom Poem by Edwin Hopper

There was a girl told the world on line
how she yearned for this special one
In reply came a text, This spell is fine
if you've courage to make it done.

If your immortal soul screams in lust
for this fine living boy in your bed
my anonymous spell you'll have to trust.
Wash the Stonehenge Slaughter Stone red.

That night, Stonehenge, was quiet as the grave.
They moved the old road, no cars there now.
No light on the stones, but the girl was brave
and danced, with all life would allow

The boy, in London, had a feeling within.
No reason, something drew him astray.
In Dad's classic Jag, he went for a spin
Down England, to old Harrow Way

The A303 was the old Harrow Way
where frozen men, first hunted deer,
They prayed the Sun, would keep Ice Age at bay.
Put their trust, in magicians, and seers.

The girl shed her tears on the Slaughter Stone.
Washed the rock, till it turned rusty red.
Then she all alone, did the dance and moan,
called him, to be wed, in her bed.

The boy opened up the triple S.U.s
His E Type passed trucks on the rise,
then, missed a corner, and hit the Old Yew.
Harrow Way took his soul for a prize.

She sang magic so well, her spell was strong.
The boy's feelings were stronger than death.
Demon lust for her, pulled his spirit along.
He would even kiss lips, with no breath.

His jet black Jag, roared, from Stonehenge Bottom,
Braked at Slaughter Stone, with a slide.
The girl knew at last her love would blossom,
and her Demon, held the Jag door, wide.

So daughter, be careful, what you wish at the stone
Don't go there at night all alone,
and please, be wise, when boys offer a ride,
think of Father, and don't get inside.