Don’t Call On Me

.

Cold winds blow through city streets

as winter’s grip takes hold

and grey souls in downbeat worlds

retreat to lies untold.

.

Rain-lashed pavements now are bare,

the forecast speaks of snow,

but in grim northern climates

an oasis starts to glow.

.

Christmas days are here once more,

those warm enchanting times.

Chance to cast off gloomy dawns,

relive those joyful climes.

.

But don’t call on me, Saint Nicholas,

just pass me by this year.

Life’s been good to me again,

no cause to shed a tear.

.

An old girl who lives by me

would welcome your next call.

She’s seen no kin for ages,

no faces to enthral.

.

I saw a child in council care,

a broken, battered waif.

A visit from such as you

would prove to him he’s safe.

.

A homeless girl in hospital

gave birth to a damaged boy.

She has no one to show the way,

your smile may bring her joy.

.

A sad young man walks the streets,

no one has time for stares.

Would you please take hold his hand

and show him someone cares?

.

Winter’s chill now stalks the land,

those dark foreboding clouds,

though Christmas cheer brings happiness

to Man’s enduring crowds.

.

Please call on me, Saint Nicholas,

next year, around this time.

I may be a grey-faced one

in need of love sublime.

.

The Song of Bert and Harry: The Name of that Pub

It wasn't the Banana Arms

The Welsh One

Baring My Celtic Soul

Lives Well Lived

They Overcame

She Loved Me Not

The glint in her eye was too risky

21st Century Song of Summer

peeps a-scoffin' al fresco pies

In The Summertime

Aim for two point seven five

The World Has Missed You

A visit to the Isle of Wight

Nobody Else’s Girl

She day 'ave enny otha bugga

Her Beautiful Smile

Her name was Meena

One Day in April

Shoeless garden frolics

Merlin

A carved wooden statue of Merlin stands in Carmarthen town centre. A mythical Celtic shaman, he was a constant in British folklore between the 5th and 15th centuries….

Bonnie Bethany

Life unfolded

Christina

Gone Too Soon

About It All Again

Get The Digest!

Every Sunday morning, in your inbox. What's not to love?