END OF TERM

So it’s good-bye to Gosport,

To Solent and Lee,

Good-bye to Cowes, Isle of Wight

And the sea.

A trip down memory’s

The lane we all take,

And never regret our teenage mistakes.

Hampshire’s the grass

That’s greener than home,

The sand that’s honey,

Yet dry as a bone.

Hampshire’s the route

Of the woodland walk,

The secret dell

Of the lovers’ talk.

So it’s good-bye to Gosport,

To college and pie,

And sea the colour

Of blue-rinse sky.

Deep in the place

Of you and me,

Laughter’s as real

As the verb ‘to be’.

Copyright Michael Newman