Lonely Gamut

What do the guidebooks think of me ?
I wonder how much I impress ?
Do Baedeker and Pevsner both agree
To must-see my address ?
I guess my suburb may be boring
As my background as my job –
But like to hope I’m worth exploring,
As a breather from the mob.
Of course, I think I have a little charm
For those who come to look –
So take a detour – where’s the harm ?
Must ev’rything be by-the-book ?
But maybe I’m an av’rage gaff,
And not a place you’ll reminisce –
At a solid two-stars-and-a-half,
But something safe to miss.

Exotic Ice

Twenty thousand years ago,
Then all we see from here
Was nothing but Devensian –
All white and cold and clear.
It took a thousand years of snow
To lay the drifts so deep –
A slab of ice far denser than the hills,
And fast more steep.

Welcome to blighted Blighty,
Frozen over, unawares,
Though the Southern downs were merely tundra,
Roamed by mammoths and bears.
But the thaw would bring a mighty change,
An invasive species, exotic and strange,
To cast the native beasts asunder –
Humans, expanding their range.

The High-Shod Strut

Once a-time, a set of boots
Would mean a sturdy pair –
A sign of well-protected feet
Parading down the lane or street.
So from the crushing jacks of brutes,
Or workmen’s safety-wear –
They took their time to implement,
Behind the laces of intent.

But now a-days, we’ve turned the boot
Into a quick affair –
We slip them on and zip them up
To wash the car or walk the pup.
We find there is no substitute
For easy mid-calf flair,
We’ve sheathed each shin and sprung each arch –
We’ve filled our boots, so let’s quick march !