Tuning lost fort hills.

Solving the revving problems of Swedish machine

On a snow covered recipe north south musical hill 

Misfiring conversations that contain no fuel

Like the empty ammunition boxes 

of a museum spitfire that last flew

when we found a broken Celtic stone.

Maybe your hear a harp

When a engine from a hillman minx won’t do

eighty five miles from Salisbury 

Angry feathers who took a Trips past the zoo

Only to find the eagle was a comic strip 

found in a 1980’s news store 

near a metal basket cut down to size.

In Which we now cycle tandems to see 

a napoleonic aged fort 

And learnt that fisher Price don’t have a say 

over the rising price of hot chocolate

That has risen again like the owls in the night.
And learnt about not picking up hitch hikers

On  wet rainy Halloween nights dress as mice.
Moscow mules don’t remove rug stains 

Of spilt Turkish coffee left by imaginary friends 

Taking great delight splitting hares over

Job boards and dogs that look like.
launderette shrunken celluloid  bitch

That are trained to work the hot plate of

A once retired steam train now reborn

On bluebell clad dual irons.