A poem can paint a thousand images in your mind's eye
funny thing so can New Babbage on any give evening day or perhaps an afternoon .. allow me to share . a few over the weekend captures with .. a most special poem by A Neighbor and Character who resides in New Babbage and quite dear to many of our own Hearts ...
Who says the Nation's purse is lean, Who fears for claim or bond or debt, When all the glories that have been Are scheduled as a cash asset? If times are bleak and trade is slack, If coal and cotton fail at last, We've something left to barter yetOur glorious past.
There's many a crypt in which lies hid The dust of statesman or of king; There's Shakespeare's home to raise a bid, And Milton's house its price would bring. What for the sword that Cromwell drew? What for Prince Edward's coat of mail? What for our Saxon Alfred's tomb? They're all for sale!
Go barter to the knacker's yard The steed that has outlived its time! Send hungry to the pauper ward The man who served you in his prime! But when you touch the Nation's store, Be broad your mind and tight your grip. Take heed! And bring us back once more Our Nelson's ship
And if no mooring can be found In all our harbours near or far, Then tow the old three-decker round To where the deep-sea soundings are; There, with her pennon flying clear, And with her ensign lashed peak high, Sink her a thousand fathoms sheer. There let her lie! -Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
*grins* Ah then we stumble upon Doctor O .. perhaps a story teller .. actor .. role player .. add a dash of one who really cares .. combined with a village who endures 
We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.
- Winston Churchill
H M S Foudroyant
a poem by
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Who says the Nation's purse is lean, Who fears for claim or bond or debt, When all the glories that have been Are scheduled as a cash asset? If times are bleak and trade is slack, If coal and cotton fail at last, We've something left to barter yetOur glorious past.
There's many a crypt in which lies hid The dust of statesman or of king; There's Shakespeare's home to raise a bid, And Milton's house its price would bring. What for the sword that Cromwell drew? What for Prince Edward's coat of mail? What for our Saxon Alfred's tomb? They're all for sale! 
Go barter to the knacker's yard The steed that has outlived its time! Send hungry to the pauper ward The man who served you in his prime! But when you touch the Nation's store, Be broad your mind and tight your grip. Take heed! And bring us back once more Our Nelson's ship
And if no mooring can be found In all our harbours near or far, Then tow the old three-decker round To where the deep-sea soundings are; There, with her pennon flying clear, And with her ensign lashed peak high, Sink her a thousand fathoms sheer. There let her lie! -Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
*grins* Ah then we stumble upon Doctor O .. perhaps a story teller .. actor .. role player .. add a dash of one who really cares .. combined with a village who endures and of course some Blak Opal Flair !!!
be evening or not .. you just gotta love this Lot .. and me .. who and what I might be ?
Just the likes of a friendly networking Seabreeze .. breezy if you please ~~~
Perhaps see you on the grid .. grins . I be the one that twirls in and about ..
~~spins in then right back out ~~
We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.- Winston Churchill
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