ChatterBank0 min ago
swings and roundabouts?
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For more on marking an answer as the "Best Answer", please visit our FAQ.Roundabouts and Swings, by Patrick R Chalmers It was early last September night, of Framlingham on Sea And was fair-day come tomorrow and the time was after tea, And I met a painted caravan a-down a dusty lane, A Pharoah with his wagons, coming jolt and creak and strain. A cheery cove and sun-burnt, bold of eye and wrinkled up, And beside him on the splash-board sat a brindled terrier pup, And a lurcher wise as Solomon and lean as fiddle strings Was jogging in the dust among his roundabouts and swings. 'Good day' said he, 'Good day' said I, 'and how do you find things go? 'And what's the chance of millions when you runs a travelling show?' 'I find,' said he, 'things very much as I have always found, 'For mostly they goes up and down or else goes round and round.' Said he 'the job's the very spit of what it always were, 'It's bread and bacon mostly when the dog don't catch a hare, 'But looking at it broad, and while it ain't no merchant kings, 'What's lost upon the roundabouts, we pulls up on the swings.' 'Good luck', said he, 'good luck' said I, 'you've put it past a doubt, 'And keep that lurcher on the road, the gamekeepers is out,' He thumped upon the footboard and he lumbered on again, To meet a gold-dust sunset down the owl-light in the lane. And the moon she climbed the hazels while the night-jar seemed to spin That Pharoah's wisdom more again, his sooth of lose and win, 'For up and down and round' says he 'goes all appointed things, 'And losses on the roundabouts means profits on the swings.' transcribed from a BBC cassette, 'Poetry Please', (c) 1988, ZBBC 1034.
Hope this helps.
It was early last September night, of Framlingham on Sea
And was fair-day come tomorrow and the time was after tea,
And I met a painted caravan a-down a dusty lane,
A Pharoah with his wagons, coming jolt and creak and strain.
A cheery cove and sun-burnt, bold of eye and wrinkled up,
And beside him on the splash-board sat a brindled terrier pup,
And a lurcher wise as Solomon and lean as fiddle strings
Was jogging in the dust among his roundabouts and swings.
'Good day' said he, 'Good day' said I, 'and how do you find things go?
'And what's the chance of millions when you runs a travelling show?'
'I find,' said he, 'things very much as I have always found,
'For mostly they goes up and down or else goes round and round.'
Said he 'the job's the very spit of what it always were,
'It's bread and bacon mostly when the dog don't catch a hare,
'But looking at it broad, and while it ain't no merchant kings,
'What's lost upon the roundabouts, we pulls up on the swings.'
'Good luck', said he, 'good luck' said I, 'you've put it past a doubt,
'And keep that lurcher on the road, the gamekeepers is out,'
He thumped upon the footboard and he lumbered on again,
To meet a gold-dust sunset down the owl-light in the lane.
And the moon she climbed the hazels while the night-jar seemed to spin
That Pharoah's wisdom more again, his sooth of lose and win,
'For up and down and round' says he 'goes all appointed things,
'And losses on the roundabouts means profits on the swings.'
transcribed from a BBC cassette, 'Poetry Please', (c) 1988, ZBBC 1034