How old am I? Darned rudeness. Twenty-one!
Yes, yes, I know your guidebook has ‘Bronze Age’.
But why not let this fogey have his fun?
You’d rather that than see me in a rage.
I’ve been a long time here, on brackened Gugh.
They stood me up to guard their pottered graves.
I must admit, I like my slanting view —
the heathered heath, the sanded stones, the waves.
I couldn’t stop your Civil Warrers, mind.
I mean, I glared; those madmen tramped on through.
Next, Georgie Bonsor came to make his find.
“Sod off,” I boomed. “There’s nothing here for you.”
These days, seems folks just want to take my pic.
“Lean in,” they joke. If only I could kick!
