The Rodborough Doggy Tree

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 When the sun descends beyond yon hill,
And gilds the golden cumulous,
Thou shalt find me in the winter chill,
Cantering past some tumulus,
Or ancient circle, sarsen-girt,
Then on to fairest RODBOROUGH Fort,
For feral football in the dirt,
Until the darkness calls a halt.
And then we trot across the scree,
Past moonlit dewpond, all serene,
To celebrate the DOGGY TREE,
Each Christmas tide a gladsome scene,
With bauble, bell and glittered card,
All pendant-hung and tree-top starred,
And there we read from my dear leader,
“A Merry Christmas to our Readers.”


Dear readers, Basil here. Each year a tree on Rodborough Common , near Stroud, is mysteriously decorated by my canine friends. No-one sees it done and yet each morning there are new doggy cards and baubles. The TV cameras arrive each year for this winterval version of crop circles…they haven’t caught me yet on my nocturnal antics. Apologies from my side-kick about lack of footie poems but outside the day-job he’s been busy with railway stuff and a history of the co-operative movement. We’re going to Swindon vs Brighton on the 28th though but will miss FGR and Derby becuse we’re going to Druidstone, man. So sorry Crispie – Bas x.

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/the-rodborough-doggy-tree/