Archive - Thursday, 10 April 2003


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Welsh Incident

GORSE flowered and flowered

Down the hillside

And tumbled into

The cold, gin-clear waters

Of the Afon Glaslyn

Where it solidified

Into nuggets of gold.

Welsh Gold.

Which I panned,

And carefully minted

And poured into the lap

Of Blodwyn

Of Blaenau Ffestiniog.

Seeing on which side

Her bread was buttered,

She asked me to marry her.

"But suppose," I said

(Calling a pause

To her exuberance),

"The gorse fails to flower

And we are faced

With penury?"

"Read the runes," she said,

"As long as boys

Are still kissing the girls

Come summer, winter,

spring or fall,

The golden gorse,

Will bloom perforce."

Updated: 16:19 Wednesday, April 09, 2003




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