The signal is clear, Battle of the Railwaymen, They will share the points.

Sing sweet avians, Red Robins in the Forest, Soaring on the wing.

Rolled-sleeve, break-back, pounding chest, Up here, just below Butterow West; Where I dig and plant and study and sow, While neighbours wander to and fro, Past rusting barrows, ramshackle sheds, Oil drums, baths and compost beds, With sticks and string to seed-space measure For next year’s crops to plot and treasure, As rain drops drip […]

Laughing and jolly, The wally with the brolly, Golly, what folly.

Hear Galileo, Willie Carr and Ernie Hunt All swear, “It still moves.”