THE GLEN
"Meet me down in the Glen at 10,"
He said with just a hint of a grin.
And I, I'd often wondered when
I'd meet the lovely men o' the Glen.
So I slipped into a satin robe
Waiting to do my Glennish probe
Wherein the patience of any Job
Would not come nigh my eye or lobe.
And stood me by the Village Green
To wait for what might fill the scene
With eyes all sharp and really keen
To know what the Glen at 10 might mean.
Nash and Steve and Bud so White
Soon came within my peering sight
But Sid he snuck with NanoBlight
And gave me such an awful fright
That Zack and Jim and Terry True
Had to all my nerves together glue
In time to see the glist'ning hue
Of Aubrey's uniform of blue.
After that I really must
See capes in certain shades of rust
Or die there in the Glennish dust,
Uncaped with unrequited lust.
The Glen at 10 was filled with men
Who inspired me to take my pen
And write of homes, and love, and sin
Of Alistair, where hope comes in,
Of babies lost and new babes found,
Of garages buried underground,
And things of bright and cheerful sound,
When writer's minds are all unbound.